LotU: The Two Towers wink wink nudge nudge
by Spoofmaster
Summary: A Two Towers parody, sequel to Fellowship of the Bra. LotU stands for Lord of the Undergarments. Legolas is straight but dyslexic, Aragorn's filthy, and Frodo's a moron. Incomplete and no longer updating. Feel free to enjoy what's there, though.
1. Two Pages About Hobbits Eating

Disclaimer: We don't own Lord of the Rings or anything else that appears in this story.

To relieve the confusion of those who haven't read our stuff before, this takes place a few weeks after we wrote the Captain Planet one-shot in which they all died horribly, and is also a sequel to LotU: The Fellowship of the Bra. LotU stands for Lord of the Undergarments, and a lot of this would make a lot more sense if you read the first one first.

We know we promised a Metal Gear Solid parody next, but that turned out to be a lot harder than we anticipated and is currently on hold indefinitely. Usually with us, that means it will never see the light of day again, but rather fester on our hard drive next to our unfinished Futurama/Robot Wars crossover.****

qpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqp

The warthog rumbled up the familiar dirt road to Mort Rainey's cabin at Tashmore Lake. The two occupants stumbled out and stretched their legs blearily before walking right into the cabin without even knocking. They wandered around for a few minutes, and soon realized that Mort had split.

"Oh well," said MysticButtCrystal. "I'm sure the readers are tired of hearing about him anyway."

"I hope he didn't get hit by a car or something," said Spoofmaster, worried.

"Who gives a shit?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "We got what we came for: a nice quiet little cabin where we can write and have our sanity slowly and steadily deteriorate. Oh, yeah, and a place where those damn Planeteers won't find us. We never should have written that stupid one-shot."

"Well, we'd better get down to writing before we lose the attention of the readers who came in here looking for a parody," Spoofmaster reminded him.

"All right," agreed MysticButtCrystal. "Just let me go put a camo net over that warthog in case the Geocruiser does a flyby."

The two writers shuddered at the memory of their last encounter with the Planeteers, and had a convenient flashback before getting down to writing.****

qpqpqpqpqp

FLASHBACK! ****

It had been some time around two in the morning when Suchi had climbed in through an air duct and into Spoofmaster's room. He had then proceeded to attempt to exit through the bedroom door.

Unfortunately for the butt-faced monkey, Yoshi, Spoofmaster's retarded dog, chose that moment to wake up. ****

Yes, she really is retarded. We're talking about a dog who gets cuts on her face from running into walls. ****

Yoshi did the one thing she always did when faced with nearly any situation. She made a bunch of noise and ran around pointlessly. This woke up Spoofmaster, who, upon seeing Suchi in her room, did the one thing she had always felt like doing while watching the show.

She got out her cheap blunt tanto and beat Suchi to death with it. ****

Ten minutes later, the Planeteers realized that the recon they had sent in was not coming back out and stormed the front door. By that time, Spoofmaster was down in the kitchen and busy making heart-healthy monkey shakes to surprise her brother with. Ma-Ti the buttmonkey found her there and burst into tears upon seeing one of Suchi's legs slowly sinking into the monkey goo in the blender. He just plain fainted when Spoofmaster added the ice cream. ****

MysticButtCrystal was roused (or perhaps aroused?) by Linka and Gi bursting into his room and obliterating half his door. Actually, that's not really what roused him. It was really the slapping that ensued after he began fondling them in his sleep.****

Meanwhile, Spoofmaster had been found by Wheeler and Kwame, who had come to the kitchen after hearing the large thumping noise Ma-Ti had made as he fell over. They entered the room to find her stooped over Ma-Ti's unconscious body, scribbling the words "pygmy weiner" on his head with a Sharpie. ****

What then commenced was a clichéd chase scene, complete with a hallway lined with doors, despite the lack of such a hallway in the writers' home. ****

In the end, MysticButtCrystal and Spoofmaster escaped together and drove off in the warthog. Spoofmaster then offered MysticButtCrystal some of her delicious heart-healthy monkey shake, but he just grabbed the whole thing and threw it out of the vehicle in disgust.

They sped off into the night, and did not stop until the middle of the next day at the cabin.

qpqpqpqpqp

The Ball-rog bounced out onto the bridge behind the Fellowship, but was so heavy that it just went through the bridge and fell towards its doom. It reached out with all its fiery tendrils, trying to grab onto something, and grasped Gandalf for a moment, pulling him most of the way off the jagged edge of the broken bridge so that he was hanging on for dear life. ****

"Gandalf!" cried Frodo, turning to run back and help his friend.

"No!" said Aragorn, stopping Frodo. "We must go! It is what he would wish!"

"The hell it is! Save me, you bastards!" yelled Gandalf. "I don't want to die!"

And with that, the Ball-rog's weight caught up to him and pulled him off. The Fellowship turned and ran again, as some orcs shot at them. It wasn't really a threat since the orcs were so crappy, but they ran anyway.

Gandalf, meanwhile, fell through the air after the Ball-rog and whipped out his sword, figuring that he might at least take out his enemy before he died.

Strange that we have never seen this sword before and will never see it again after this. ****

He held it out as he descended towards the Ball-rog, anticipating a huge dramatic fight scene. Instead, the Ball-rog didn't even see him coming. The sword pushed deep into its rubbery hide, puncturing it. The giant ball squealed comically as it zoomed around losing air until it finally became totally flat and lifeless and snagged on a rock. Gandalf nodded to himself with grim satisfaction just before he fell into a large and unpleasant looking underground lake. ****

qpqpqpqpqp

Frodo awoke with a start. Dreaming real-life events with crystal clarity was always somewhat taxing, and he lay his head back against a rock, no more rested than when he had fallen asleep.

He and Sam were in a large, gray, rocky (not as in Balboa) ****place that was very ugly. Frodo looked around at his surroundings with distaste and got up.

"We should head on," said Frodo, nudging Sam with his foot. Sam continued to snore gently.

"Come ooooonn!" whined Frodo, bringing his leg back and delivering a vicious kick to Sam's ribs. ****

Sam, reacting like any self-respecting tough guy who had done his friend a favor by going on a horrible quest with him only to be kicked by said weenie friend for not instantly waking up (probably because he had been up half the night washing Frodo's clothes in a nearby stream and reading the field manuals for the elven gear they were carrying), got up and punched Frodo so hard in the face that he fell over backwards. ****

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," apologized Sam, helping him back to his feet, "But you really shouldn't kick people."

Frodo clutched at his bleeding nose and whimpered, staring at Sam with wide, hurt eyes.

"Oh, goddamnit," muttered Sam, pulling out a handkerchief and cleaning Frodo up. "You are such a baby."

The two continued toward Mordor for a few hours then, but came to a large drop-off that blocked their path and went in either direction as far as they could see. Sam got out some of the elven rope they had gotten in L-Forest, and tied it around a sturdy-looking rock. He gestured for Frodo to go first, which he did.

Frodo quickly reached the bottom, and stared up into the mist. Sam, who was hampered by having to carry almost all of their stuff (amounting to about half his bodyweight), had a bit of a tougher time and was having to take it slow for safety's sake.

"Hurry up!" moaned Frodo impatiently. He tugged on the rope for emphasis.

"No, Frodo, don't tug the rope!" yelled Sam. Frodo continued to tug the rope. ****

The rope, being magical elven rope programmed to untie itself when repeatedly tugged from below, let go of the rock. Frodo might have known this would happen if he, like Sam, had had the brains to read the field manuals. Sam fell the last fifteen feet and would have been seriously hurt had he not landed on a large pile of moss. Instead, he was just horribly bruised. ****

Frodo, abashed, quickly set about coiling the rope while Sam got up and resisted the urge to strangle Frodo for the fifteenth time in the last five hours. At this point, he was regretting volunteering to baby-sit Frodo. However, seeing that Frodo was his life-long friend and that the fate of the world was at sake, he really didn't see much of an alternative to going on. This made him feel trapped and helpless, and therefore very pissed off. ****

Frodo finished and jammed the rope into his own bag. He had the decency to be ashamed about what he had done, and avoided looking at Sam.

"Let's just eat lunch," sighed Sam, settling back down on the moss and taking his pack off. He reached in and pulled out a single elven MRE (one was generally more than enough for both halflings, since the meals had been designed to sustain full-size elves in combat).

"Vegetarian today," muttered Sam, opening the outer wrapper and dumping the contents out on the ground between them. "You know what that means. Hard vegetable crackers as dry as rocks and peanut butter."

Both hobbits made a face at the thought, knowing that they would have to eat it for the sake of the protein.

Frodo glanced down at the scattered packages. His eyes widened briefly, and his hand reached out with lightning speed and snatched something, which he put behind himself.

Sam caught the motion out of the corner of his eye as he was setting up the chemical heater for the main course. ****

"What did you just take, Frodo?" asked Sam.

"Nothing," lied Frodo. "Just some of those nasty vegetable crackers."

Sam looked suspiciously at his friend, and began rifling through the small pile of packaged processed super-food in front of him.

"Wait," growled Sam. "The vegetarian MRE has pound cake. Where's the pound cake, Frodo?"

"They must have forgotten to put it in," suggested Frodo, scooting back to hide the dessert under his buttocks. ****

"Now, Frodo," scolded Sam gently. "I think I've been putting up with your crap pretty well so far. The thing is, though, if you even think of keeping all of that pound cake to yourself, I might just give in and choke you to death with these vegetable crackers." ****

Sam smiled sweetly at Frodo, holding the horrid little brown squares up to show him. Frodo blanched and quickly handed the pound cake over. Sam removed it from its wrapper and tore it in half. He decided to save his share for last so that he wouldn't be tasting vegetable crackers all day, and accordingly hid it away under his leg on top of the MRE outer wrapper so that it wouldn't get dirt on it.

Frodo, on the other hand, scarfed his down immediately. ****

The hobbits ate the rest of their meal in silence, except when it came to the crackers. These they smothered in peanut butter, as they were supposed to, and choked down as quickly as they could (which amounted to about two minutes. Have you ever eaten MRE crackers with peanut butter on them? It's hard work!). They made little gagging noises, and almost choked a few times. Afterwards, they both washed the food down with copious amounts of water, since the crackers made their mouths feel dry and sticky. The rest of the meal was quite pleasant in comparison, especially for Sam, who got to savor his pound cake. Frodo stared at him with big puppy-dog eyes. Eating the pound cake in front of Frodo when Frodo didn't have any made it all the more delicious. ****

qpqpqpqpqp

Later that evening, however, the two hobbits were in a foul mood. They hadn't made much progress since lunchtime, having gotten lost and gone in a big circle for several hours. They spread their blankets, Sam muttering the whole time, and went to sleep.

qpqpqpqpqp

Gollum crept down the small cliff above the hobbits face-first at about four in the morning. His approach would have been absolutely silent, had he not been complaining to himself the whole way. ****

"Smelly hobbitses, think they can steal our precious, we'll show them!" hissed Gollum to himself. "What has the world come to, filthy hobbitses coming into our homeses and taking anything they wants!"

Gollum remembered with bitterness what had happened a few years after Bilbo had stolen the Bra from him. Another hobbit had stopped by his cave and stolen his stereo. ****It had been then that Gollum realized that the entire world was conspiring against him and left to go retrieve his possessions. ****

Luckily for the two hobbits, Gollum was a freaking idiot who constantly talked to himself when he should have been sneaking, and they woke up in time to kick his ass. ****

Sam punched Gollum, but despite his emaciated condition, Gollum was quite strong and knocked Sam aside. Sam, however, grabbed Gollum's foot and pulled him over on top of himself. Frodo then whipped out Sting and swung it toward Gollum, stopping just short of his throat. Gollum lay panting on the ground, his bulbous eyes fixed on Sting. Sam struggled out from under him, and was nicked on the face with the waving sword for his troubles.

"Ouch!" roared Sam, more angry than hurt. "Is it so hard to keep it steady?!" he bellowed, giving Frodo a non-too-playful shove that almost sent Sting into Gollum's throat. He stormed over to Frodo's bag and pulled out the rope, intending to tie up their adversary. Frodo, however, was an incompetent, and the rope had become a giant knot due to poor storage. ****

Sam sat down and began untying it. After about twenty seconds he realized how stupid he was being, stuck one of the loops on a nearby rock, and tugged on the other end. The rope obediently untied that segment, and he repeated the process until it was completely undone.

Sam then realized how stupid it would be to use such a rope to tie someone up, coiled it back up, and got out some crappy normal rope. ****

By this time, Gollum was getting kind of fussy, and kept wiggling around and making obnoxious moaning noises. ****

Sam tied the rope around Gollum's neck, and then around his wrists so that it formed a sort of leash. He set Frodo to hold on to it and watch Gollum while he repacked their stuff, figuring that they weren't going to get any more sleep and might as well move on. Gollum rolled around on the ground the entire time and made nasty little sounds like he was snorting up snot. They moved out, Frodo tugging Gollum along.

"Nassty elvish rope!" cried Gollum, standing still until he reached the end of the leash and was pulled forward onto his face. "It burns uss!"

"That rope isn't even elvish!" yelled Sam. "It's hemp, and I brought it from the Shire!"

"Oh," Gollum paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, then began in the same tone of voice as before, but louder. "Nasty hobbit rope! It BUUUURRRNSS uss!!" ****

"Oh, shut up!" wailed Sam.

"Hey," said Frodo, getting an idea. "He's been to Mordor, right? Maybe he could show us how to get there!"

"Yes!" agreed Gollum. "But not while we has this rope on. It buuuuuuuurnses."

"If we take the rope off, he'll probably just run off," grumbled Sam. "Or maybe he'll bite us and give us rabies, and _then_ run off."

"But we'll swear!" protested Gollum. "We'll swear on the Precious!"

"Come on, Sam," said Frodo. "How else are we going to get there? Besides, look at him. He's cute!"

Gollum opened his eyes very wide and did his best to look cute. ****

"Aw, hell," sighed Sam. "This isn't a kitten we're talking about!" ****

"I like kittenses," interjected Gollum, grinning.

"I'll bet," replied Sam dryly, knowing just how Gollum probably liked his kittenses. Rare, no doubt. Although, Frodo was right. They really didn't have much of an alternative. He grumbled to himself, and untied Gollum, who did a happy dance, which caused Frodo to grin and clap with glee.

The three set out for Mordor, which Gollum warned them was "full of orcses, thousands of delicious orcses."

qpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqp

Yea, we devoted, like, two pages to the hobbits having lunch! We're just like Tolkien! Hopefully it'll speed up a little later, or else part two will be enormous.

We wanted to get this to all you nice people on Saturday. Unfortunately, broke...again. Sorry for the inconvenience.****


	2. Apparently His Name is Theodred

"Hey, how about we write?" asked Spoofmaster.

"Not now," replied MysticButtCrystal. "Watching Star Trek."

On the screen, Captain Kirk and Bones could be seen being in peril that Spock would undoubtedly have to save them from.

"Okay," sighed Spoofmaster. "After Star Trek."

ONE HOUR LATER 

"Can we write now?" inquired Spoofmaster.

"Not now," grumbled MysticButtCrystal, flipping to another channel. "Watching Star Trek." ****

The crew of Deep Space Nine were coming to some sort of political or ethical dilemma that they would have to sort through. It was probably something about Cardassians being assholes and Bejorans being whiny little bitches.

Spoofmaster grumbled a bit and hoped that maybe one of the Cardassians might bite someone.

ONE HOUR LATER 

"How about now?" tried Spoofmaster.

"Huh?" grunted MysticButtCrystal the way he always did when his brain was on vacation.

"Can we write now?" asked his sister.

"Not now," responded MysticButtCrystal. "Watching Star Trek."

Indeed, Picard was faced with an anomaly in the space-time continuum that was having interesting and ironic effects on various members of his crew.

"Arg!" screamed Spoofmaster. "No more Star Trek!"

"Look, I can't help it if the Sci Fi channel and Spike TV accidentally create a three hour block of Star Trek!" protested MysticButtCrystal. ****

"Well, just come write before the episode gets interesting!" demanded Spoofmaster.

"I want to play Halo now," stated MysticButtCrystal. Spoofmaster slapped him upside the head and went off to go on the internet.

And that is why this takes us so long.

They sat down and wrote later that night, but by the time they had gone through theire-mail, they only had thirty minutes left before they wanted to go watch Detective Conan. By the time they had finished this long and idiotic introduction, they had less than ten.

Bugger.

Spoofmaster began to think that their time at Mort's cabin was being wasted.

It took a week to get back down to writing the actual chapter, and then they had a fight involving a binder and a used milk cap. It included such inspired phrases as "It's your fault, with your stupid feet," and "Your binder can't hold a milk cap."

Stupid writers. ****

Merry and Pippin were not happy. They were being carried on the backs of some very large and offensively smelly orcs.

Merry was even more unhappy about this than Pippin, since he viewed the whole thing as being Pippin's fault, and he had sustained an injury to his head.

This had not occurred, as one might have assumed, during their capture. An orc had simply decided the night before that it would be amusing to punch him in the head. The other orcs were actually quite amused by this, and had declared the orc who had done this to be "a genius, a true legend of comedy in the making."

The orcs, now running through the wilderness (in other words, grass, small hills, and rocks), were having to find other ways to amuse themselves, since hobbits could only be punched so many times before their leader started bitching about it.

"I spy, with my large grotesque eye, something that begins with...R," commented Ashnak, the orc carrying Pippin.

"Is it..." Slakkaar, the orc carrying Merry, looked around thoughtfully. "A rock?"

"How'd you guess?" wondered Ashnak. Slakkaar shrugged, and looked around. ****

"I spy, with my large grotesque eye, something that begins with R," pronounced Slakkaar confidently. Ashnak peered around himself, scratched his head, and answered.

"Is it a rock?" ****

Merry groaned.

"Yes, it is," replied Slakkaar, purposefully jabbing Merry with his elbow and grinning at the oofing sound he got in response. "How did you guess?"

"I spy, with my large grotesque eye, something that begins with..." Ashnak thought it over for a moment, and picked something he was sure would not be guessed. "R."

Seventy-five rocks later, Ashnak and Slakkaar were interrupted when their leader smelled something and brought the column to a halt.

Soon all of the orcs smelled it. And well...there's only one thing that fifty orcs clustered together can smell over themselves.

Aragorn. ****

Their leader roared for them to continue moving, but faster. He didn't want to have to vaguely do battle with the Fellowship again, since the Fellowship always seemed to vaguely kick their asses.

And so the orcs began to run instead of jog.

"Damnit," grumbled Aragorn, one ear pressed to the ground. "The orcs are running faster now. They've picked up our scent."

"More like _your_ scent," accused Legolas, perched on top of a rock for to try to look cool. "We elves are a cleanly folk."

"I've been meaning to ask," puzzled Gimli. "How is it you keep so clean? We've been running around in the wilderness for weeks and you're still spotless. Even when you do get dirty, you're mysteriously clean a short while later."

"Elves lick themselves," explained Aragorn, getting up. "You know, like cats." ****

"We do not!" protested Legolas loudly, but then he went into a fit of coughing, and Gimli could have sworn he saw him spit a wad of soggy elf hair into his hand and shove it into his pocket. ****

"We should start chasing those orcs now," suggested Aragorn. "If we don't, we'll never catch them before they reach Mordor."

"I don't think they're headed for Mordor," replied Legolas. "They're heading almost directly south, toward Isengard.'

"You know, I would think that was impressive, that you could tell that," commented Gimli. "But I'm still too creeped out by that hairball thing." ****

Legolas gave him a dirty look. ****

They chased the orcs for days, but never seemed to gain any ground. In fact, the orcs were getting farther away every hour, and they began to lose hope.

"I've never heard of anyone running this fast and this long," grumbled Gimli. "How can they do it?!"

Unknown to them, the orc leader had distributed Red Bull energy drink, causing all the orcs to grow wings and fly for long distances. ****

So there.

Meanwhile, in Isengard, Saruman was quite upset. Not only were his orcs incompetent, production down from the previous month, and his robe stupid-looking, but he had just realized that the authors had completely forgotten to put him in the first installment of the trilogy.

"Lousy bastards," he growled to himself. "I don't know how they even passed off Gandalf's disappearance without me. I'll show them. They can't do this to me. I'm Saruman the Many-Colored, and I kick so much ass that...uhmm...I've got an ass permanently stuck to my shoe? Yeah, that's it." ****

"We're still running out of fuel," the orc who had been standing in the middle of the room reminded him. Saruman had been spouting his fury at this orc for ten minutes now, and showed no signs of letting up. The orc really needed advice on where to get more fuel. Every old couch and soiled mattress for miles around had already been burned.

"What do I care?" grumbled Saruman. "I mean, I obviously don't matter to them, if they're just going to leave me out of an entire third of the story! Why should it matter if I just lock myself in my study and eat toffee for the rest of the war?"

"Err," the orc shifted uncomfortably, since he was beginning to need to pee. ****

"In fact, that's what I'll do!" Saruman went on. "That'll show them!"

And so, he grabbed a large bag of toffee and locked himself in his study.

The orc, who didn't want to go back to his supervisor without some kind of result, simply thought it over to himself, and then told the others that Saruman had said to just go chop down that big spooky forest that was on their borders. This orc, whose sole job was supposed to be that of a messenger, had actually been running the entire kingdom for two months now in this manner.

Another orc came running in, andknocked on Saruman's study door.

"There's some barbarians and pirates here to see you!" announced the orc.

"Tell them to fuck off," replied Saruman, eating a toffee.

"But lord! They have an appointment!" protested the orc.

"Oh, fine!" pouted Saruman. "But I'm not coming out. They'll just have to talk through the door."

The orc scurried off, and returned a few moments later with ahoard of barbarian chiefs and pirate captains. ****

"We came to swear our loyalty to you, as you requested last month," said one pirate captain, looking concerned about the fact that Saruman had locked himself in his own study.

"Yeah?" asked Saruman from within. "Well, you can just kiss my ass."

"I guess we'll just go ravage some villages instead then," replied the pirate. "As long as it's all right with you."

"You can all go sodomize some dwarves, for all I care!" came Saruman's voice. ****

"Really?" asked a particularly effeminate barbarian, poking his head up out of the crowd. ****

Down in the big hole in Isengard, the orcs were working hard, forging crappy new orc swords, growing crappy new orcs, and having devastating industrial accidents due to the dangers of performing these activities in a big hole in the ground using the intelligence of an average orc. Eyes were gouged out by sword-carriers turning unexpectedly, large open flames were used to light work areas with flammable materials present in abundance, poorly-made ladders fell over or collapsed most times they were used, and the fences on the warg pens were routinely built out of old cardboard boxes and chicken wire. When the wargs escaped, they had a nasty habit of attacking random orcs and falling into massive pots of molten iron. Then the orcs would generally kill the warg master in retaliation. As a result, no warg master got more than a week or two of experience, and the wargs escaped even more.

Saruman might have done something about all this, but he was far too busy eating his toffee.

The luckier orcs worked outside, and suffered a few less casualties. They felled trees and hauled them to the pit, where they hurled them over the edge. Numerous orcs were taken out by falling trees, but they did not devise a better system, and Saruman was still too busy eating his toffee. ****

The barbarians were ravaging a small village in Rohan.

This mostly seemed to involve the barbarians and the villagers running around and screaming at each other, with a barbarian stabbing a villager to death every now and then.

Then the barbarians started torching the villagers' homes, and the villagers started leaving. The barbarians then chased most of them down and killed them. The ones that escaped went off to warn the king.

After destroying the village, the barbarians amused themselves by force-feeding Rohan's horses beans and then lighting their farts, which they used to cook the horses they had killed and intended to eat. ****

After that, they went off in search of the nearest place with dwarves.

Yuck. ****

"Ridin' on mah hooorse," sang Eomer to himself, riding along on his horse, followed by his cavalry. "Gunna find some orcs...then I'm gunna stab 'em...ridin' on my hooooorse. Horse horse horse horse horse horse—" ****

He was cut off in the chorus by a horrible sight before him.

"Oh, crap!" exclaimed Eomer. "Look at all those dead people that were my buddies! This sucks!"

Indeed, he had come across what appeared to be an abandoned battlefield, and it was full of his dead buddies. Many of them seemed to have been nibbled on.

Eomer dismounted and walked among the corpses, looking for one that was alive and not a corpse. He soon came across his cousin, Theodred. ****

"Oh, crap, it's Theodred!" cried Eomer. He stooped down and checked his pulse. "Yay, he's not dead!" exclaimed Eomer, but then he remembered all the other dead people. "This still sucks."

"Hey, boss!" interrupted one of his men. "These orcs are wearing Saruman's colors!"

"Bastards!" replied Eomer. "But at least now we know who's doing this. That's one step closer to killing him! To Edoras!"

He picked up Theodred and put him on his horse in front of him. The man who had spoken out took along the helmet he had found, the rest of his men gathered up the few survivors and the many corpses, and they all set off.

Edoras is sure a cool-looking place. It's built on that hill, and it's all windy, and it just looks really cool.

Can you guess where this next bit takes place? I'll give you a hint: It starts with an "E", and therefore it's definitely not a rock.

Did you guess?

Did you?

It's Edoras! ****

Eomer carried Theodred up into the castle and gave him to some guards, who put him in a bed and called for some doctors and for his sister,Eowyn. Then he went to go tell Theoden about all the things that had happened.

"Theoden King," greeted Eomer. "We found Theodred, and he had been stabbed by orcs. And the orcs were wearing Saruman's colors! Saruman must be breeding orcs and attacking us with them!"

"Emblehblehblehbleh," replied Theoden. ****

"Why do you bother him like this?" inquired Wormtongue. "Nothing is really happening. Saruman is our ally." ****

"No he's not! He's our enemy, and he's obviously attacking us! We should go kill him!" argued Eomer.

"That was obviously swamp gas," observed Wormtongue.

"You know, I think you're working for him! You are, aren't you?!" demanded Eomer.

"No, it's simply a weather balloon," replied Wormtongue.

"And you've been hitting on my sister, you sick little monkey!" cried Eomer.

"That was ball lightning," replied Wormtongue once more.

"I'll bet you're drugging Theoden, too! That would explain all the drooling..." Eomer finished.

"He's simply been affected by magnetic changes in Middle Earth," proclaimed Wormtongue.

"I've decided that you're a very bad man and I don't like you very much," concluded Eomer. "I think I'll disembowel you now, and then everyone will like me because you're a jerk."

"Guards!" shouted Wormtongue. "Come kick his ass." ****

To Eomer's surprise, the guards did come and kick his ass.

"Why are you on his side?" yelled Eomer. The guards shrugged.

"You're banished, buttmunch!" announced Wormtongue, holding up an official-looking document. "Theoden signed it and everything!" ****

"But that's your handwriting!" objected Eomer. "And you were obviously in the middle of writing Wormtongue and crossed it out and wrote Theoden King instead!" ****

The guards dragged Eomer outside and threw him down the stairs.

"Hey!" protested Eomer. "That was painful!"

Back inside, Eowyn was sitting beside Theodred's bed. Wormtongue entered the room.

"Hey bebeh," said Wormtongue in what he must have thought was a sexy voice. "Come here often?"

"Get the hell away from me!" growled Eowyn.

"I just had your brother banished," crooned Wormtongue. "Don't you just love men with authority?"

"You did what?!" snapped Eowyn.

Wormtongue was too busy licking his finger and rubbing his nipple to answer her. ****Maybe he thought it would turn her on.

"Ew!" shrieked Eowyn, and she threw Theodred's bedpan at Wormtongue. ****

"That's no way to treat your future husband, baby," protested Wormtongue.

"If you were the last man in Middle Earth I'd marry a raccoon," replied Eowyn. ****

"We'll just have to see about that!" frowned Wormtongue.

Eowyn shuddered.

"That chapter was better than the first one," commented MysticButtCrystal.

"Yeah, but Mort's still gone," frowned Spoofmaster.

"So?" asked MysticButtCrystal, biting into a juicy corncob.

"I'm worried about him," replied his sister. Then she looked over and saw what he was eating. "Ew! How can you eat that?!"

"Fertilizer is fertilizer, and good corn is good corn," grinned MysticButtCrystal, with little bits of corn stuck in his teeth.

"Yuck," Spoofmaster shuddered. "And I still want Mort back."

"Fine, I'll get him back," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "I've got just the guy for the job."

$$$$$$$  
$$$$$$$


	3. Escape from Colorado

Sorry we're late, but this chapter is probably much better than it would have been if we had posted it on time. It was plagued with pacing issues, and it needed a good solid rewrite, which it didn't get until today.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

In the year 1998, the people of Colorado decided to stop all those out-of-staters from moving in and mucking the place up any more. They dug a five-foot-deep and ten-foot-wide trench around the entire state and filled it with delicious cream corn. They also put up a living wall of cornstalks as high as an elephant's eye to block prying eyes. While this may not have been the most effective barrier ever built, people got the point.

Either that or they didn't feel like wading through cream corn that had been sitting in a dirty trench for months.****

In the year 2004, Mort Rainey ran off after two psychos kept invading his home and holding him hostage there.

He fled to Colorado after stealing the rough drafts of the first part of LotU, which detailed the treatment he had received at the hands of its writers. ****

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

Snake Plissken was escorted out of the back of a truck and through a door into an ominous-looking hallway by some big burly guys in black. Despite the fact that he was probably in great peril, he looked supremely unconcerned as he gazed around at stuff. A tinny voice played over speakers set into the walls.

"You are now entering the processing center for Spoofmaster's fanfics. All characters must be processed before entering a fanfic. Follow the yellow line on the floor. If you wish, you may choose termination. If so, please speak with one of the guards and he will assist you."

Over to his right, Snake could see Count Chocula being shot by a firing squad.Apparently he preferred the sweet embrace of death over the slow agony of appearing in a meandering parody.

Suddenly, a creepy guy in a lab coat jumped out and injected Snake with a mysterious substance (oooooo!). Snake promptly broke his neck, which caused the guards to stick a taser in the small of his back, like all henchmen tend to do to loveable antiheroes.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

"Why Snake Plissken?" asked Spoofmaster, looking at the unconscious man stretched out on the floor of Mort's living room.

"Because he's cool," chuckled MysticButtCrystal. "And this is the kind of shit people have him do in his movies, so it just kind of makes sense."

"I see," Spoofmaster looked thoughtful for a moment. "Should we wake him up now and tell him?"

"Yes."

The two authors commenced poking Snake with sticks until he started moving, and then hid behind the couch, on which were two poorly made effigies of themselves. They had found them in Mort's closet with pins stuck in them. ****

"Who are you?" asked Snake, using his "scary" voice.

"That's not important, Plissken," commanded Spoofmaster.

"Call me Snake," sneered Snake.

"Oh, shut up!" objected Spoofmaster.

"Anyways, we're going to, like...send you to go find Mort Rainey. He ran off to Colorado with the rough drafts of our story because he's a total git," replied MysticButtCrystal, pulling a rope attached to a pulley attached to his effigy, causing it to wiggle slightly and then slump over to one side. "And if you don't, you'll die, because we, like, injected you with bad stuff that'll kill you! Hell, you should know the drill by now."

"Yeah, but you've severely screwed up the timeline," growled Snake.

"Never mind that!" yelled Spoofmaster.

"Hey, this must be quite a shock," said MysticButtCrystal, sounding sympathetic. "Have a cheeseburger. There's one on the coffee table for you."

Snake ate the cheeseburger.

"Hahaha, I can't believe you ate that!" laughed MysticButtCrystal. "For a super special ops soldier of the recent past/near future, you sure are a dumbass!" ****

"What?!" Snake sprayed the last crumbs of the cheeseburger across the coffee table.

"I'm not cleaning that up," offered Spoofmaster.

"That cheeseburger had the slow-acting poison in it!" explained MysticButtCrystal. "Now you have to do what we say!"

"I thought that was in the injection!" objected Snake.

"No, that was just hallucinogens," corrected MysticButtCrystal.

"That would explain all the colors...." hissed Snake, his head bobbing slightly as he examined his own hands.****

"So here's the clock that tells you how long you have to live, and here's your transportation," MysticButtCrystal used the ropes to make his effigy gesture clumsily to a bulky old-fashioned alarm clock and what appeared to be a wheel-less motorcycle. "It's called a hovercycle. It hovers, like a harrier."

"It uses a gallon of gas every two feet!" chirped Spoofmaster.

"That's why I just installed a very primitive and unsafe nuclear generator!" enthused MysticButtCrystal. "Just be sure not to ride it for more than a few hours."

"At a time?" asked Snake.

"No, ever. You wouldn't believe how much radiation this thing puts out," advised MysticButtCrystal. "Oh yeah, and you'll want to wear this lead codpiece, too."

"What advantages are there to a hovercycle?" wondered Snake.

"Advantages?" MysticButtCrystal asked, confused. "None. It just looks cool. Oh, and one last thing: Colorado's a long ways away, and you'll need to teleport to get there fast enough. Here's 343 Guilty Spark. I've tied him to a cinderblock so he can't fly away. Just hit him with a blunt object until he teleports you to where you want to go."

"This behavior is most objectionable, Reclaimer!" sputtered 343 Guilty Spark.

"Quiet, you," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "Get going, Snake."

"The only reason 343 Guilty Spark was able to teleport was because there was a teleportation grid through Halo 04," sneered Snake. "Is there just supposed to miraculously be a grid across the country?"

"As the authors, we say there is," snapped Spoofmaster. "And as the authors, we alos say you should get going or else."

Snake leapt forward and started to strangle MysticButtCrystal's effigy.

"If you'll look closely, Snake, you'll realize that what you are strangling is just a really poor effigy of me," said MysticButtCrystal smugly.

"I'll come back with Mort," grated Snake. "Then I'll kill you."

"Oh, you always say that," said Spoofmaster, dismissing his threat.

Snake kicked the hovercycle over on its side, grabbed the life clock and insane robot, strode outside, and stole the warthog.

"...how did he know we had a warthog?" wondered Spoofmaster.

"It's a karma thing, only with plotholes," reasoned MysticButtCrystal. "You know, like how we just decided there was a teleportation grid running across the entire U.S. Now let's write that stupid story, even though we've probably already lost most of our audience."

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

It had been several more days of riding on the backs of smelly orcs for Merry and Pippin.

Days of chafing.

Days of bruising.

Days of just wishing that all of Middle Earth would explode in a Technicolor fireball and end their misery.

The orcs stopped for the night once again, and, after making sure the hobbits were securely tied, threw Merry and Pippin on the ground.

No, not dropped. Threw. The orcs were still highly amused by the sounds that come out of hobbits when they are abused.

"When are we going to have some meat?" grumbled an orc. "All we've had is maggoty bread for three stinking days!"

"But you like maggots!" objected another orc. "Maggots are meat."

"Yeah, but there's bread involved," complained the first orc again.

"Why can't we have some meat?" whined a small orc with overactive saliva glands and a bad lisp.

"Because you're a dumbass," replied the orcs' leader. ****

"What does that have to do with it?" wheezed the little orc, spraying his superior with spittle.

"Just shut up," growled the leader. "No one likes you, and if you don't shut up, I'll keep you on point until you buy it."

"Hey, why don't we eat them?" continued the whiny little orc, who obviously didn't know what was good for him as he gestured to Merry and Pippin. "They're fresh!"

"Because bringing them back alive is the point of the entire mission, idiot," explained the leader.

"Well, they don't need their legs," interjected another orc helpfully.

"Are you stupid?!" roared the leader. "Even if we managed to stop the massive bleeding that would result from chopping their legs off, they'd get huge infections, go into fevers, and die anyways!" ****

"Screw you, I say we should eat their legs anyway!" yelled the orc in favor of leg eating.

"I say you just pissed me off," commented the leader before chopping the head off the orc who had been in favor of leg eating, but who was now dead since his head had been chopped off, so his opinions didn't really matter anymore anyway. You know, because he was dead?

Hell, did they ever matter? I mean, we didn't even give him a name!

"Meat!" grinned the little orc. The other orcs took the corpse and put it on a spit, then went to go get firewood for to roast it.

I mean, who the hell wants to eat raw orc? You'd get diseases like with raw pork because it rhymes. ****

As the orcs chopped branches from the edge of Fangorn to make the fire, the trees began to moan and writhe.

"Yeah, yeah, writhe writhe writhe," snapped the orc leader. "What are you gunna do, writhe us to death?"

He chuckled and chopped some more firewood. Then he beat the trees with some of the branches he had taken from them. Then he commanded all of his orcs to line up and "mark their territory" on the trees. Then he used his knife to carve crude and disturbing sexual images into the bark of several of the trees. Then he picked his nose and wiped the snot on the trees. Then he shat on them.

That's just stupid, even for an orc.****

Having enough firewood, they went back and began to roast the corpse of that orc who had so dearly loved to eat legs, but who was dead now. While they were waiting for it to be done, most of them sat down around the campfire to sing songs, although a few pairs of orcs were sent off to be sentries and watch for attack. One of the orcs had even brought his acoustic guitar, and they had a grand old time singing their various kumbayas and whatnot.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

Ashnak and Slakkaar had been assigned to watch the land to the East of the camp. After a while, they became bored of watching the empty plains, and turned to a round of their favorite game.

"I spy, with my large grotesque eye, something that begins with R," began Ashnak.

Slakkaar thought really hard, and then replied, "Is it a rock?"

"It is!" Ashnak beamed. "You're really good at this!" ****

"I spy, with my large grotesque eye, something that begins with R," continued Slakkaar.

"Is it a rock?" asked Ashnak, after about forty seconds of contemplation.

"No," replied Slakkaar.

Ashnak stared at him, his jaw hanging open in confusion. "This is a hard one," he observed. "I'm stumped."

"It's a..." Slakkaar scratched his chin for a moment, having forgotten what it even was. "Oh yeah! Rohirrim!"

"Rohirrim?" wondered Ashnak.

That was just about the last wondering he ever did, since Eomer rode up on his horse the next second and killed them both.

"I'm such a badass!" celebrated Eomer, riding on. "But...I'm banished. Man, this sucks." ****

qpqpqpqpqpqp

As the orcs and Rohirrim did battle, Merry and Pippin used the opportunity to try and crawl away. Unfortunately, as they reached the edge of Fangorn, they were spotted by the whiny spitting orc, who grabbed their cloaks.

"Ah, now I have you to myself!" sprayed the orc. Luckily for the hobbits, one of the Rohirrim rode by just then and stabbed the orc in the kidney.

"AAAHH, MY KIDNEY!" screeched the orc, rolling around on the ground and watering the grass with his screams. ****

The hobbits once again headed for the forest, pausing to cut their ropes on the sword of a fallen orc.

Just then, one of the Rohirrim suddenly wanted to be riding where Pippin was standing. The sight of the small person in front of it spooked the horse, much like mice do for elephants in cartoons. This caused it to rear up, which caused Pippin to fall over backwards in fear. The horse's hooves pawed the air in slow motion, and Pippin stared up at it.

"Aaaaahhh, no, I'll be stepped on!" wailed Pippin. "My hobbit brains will be splashed across the rocks. Oh, what horrible way to die! I had hoped to live a long and prosperous life, but now my hope is extinguished by this, my certain death!

"Shut up and roll out of the way, Pippin!" yelled Spoofmaster, knowing he could hear her.

"Maybe, just maybe, I could roll out of the way," continued Pippin. "Could there be a chance? No, I don't think so, for I am not quick enough to dodge away from the feet of this, the great animal that shall trample me to death in but a moment! All my accomplishments have been in vain!"

"We get it, we went on too long about the damn orc and those skulls!" admitted MysticButtCrystal. "But this is lame! That horse has been pawing the air above your head for a good thirty seconds now!"

"Woe is me!" blathered on Pippin. "Doomed to walk forever in a parody written by a pair of incompetent morons who steal their best material from television shows and their own earlier parodies! But alas, not even that for me now, as I shall die in but a moment! Remember me, fair readers!"

"That's it, we're just time-lapsing," grumbled Spoofmaster. "Nobody honestly believes you're going to die anyway."

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night," statedLegolas, looking at the sunrise, which was...red, currently. ****

"Isn't the sunrise always red?" asked Gimli. "At least for a while?"

"Er..." said Legolas.

"Actually," explained Aragorn, "Chances are someone, somewhere in the world, is killed every night, but that's not what causes a red sunrise. It's simply the added distortion of all the additional atmosphere we're looking through when the sun is still close to the horizon making the sun appear to be red. It's really just kind of yellowish-orange all the time."

"Gee, you're just full of fun little facts these days, aren't you?" muttered Legolas darkly.

"Yeah," smiled Gimli. "How do you know all this stuff?"

"Ranger school," replied Aragorn. "When you're a rough outdoorsy warrior type, it really helps to know a lot about the physical world and the things that live in it."

"Ranger school?" smirked Legolas. "Come on, there aintno ranger school!"

"Oh, so you think we just spontaneously pop into existence, then?" snapped Aragorn.

"Er..."said Legolas again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," stated Aragorn matter-of-factly. "We'd better get back to chasing those orcs."

Aragorn began trotting off after the orcs again, Gimli following, but Legolas hung back a little ways, since he didn't really want to talk to them any more. Every time he tried to say or do something that would be cool, they just made fun of him. Why had these people asked for an elf if they didn't want someone there to act cool and mysterious?

"I'm going to freaking kill Duranor when I get back," grumbled Legolas.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

Eomer and the Rohirrim were riding around looking for more orcs to kill.

"Ridin' on mah hoooorse, I have killed some ooooorcs, gunna kill some more, gunna stab that Saruman guy, ridin' on mah hoooorse," sang Eomer. "Horse horse horse horse horse...." ****

The Rohirrim immediately behind him did their best not to grimace. Eomer was a great commander and fighter, but his horse song left something to be desired, and he sang it almost constantly. The only thing that ever stayed the same was the chorus—the rest he seemed to just pull out of his ass as he went along. ****

Luckily for them, Eomer was interrupted when Aragorn stepped out from behind some convenient rocks.

"Hey, stupid!" shouted Aragorn, waving his hand above his head.

Eomer turned his horse to face Aragorn, and his men encircled the trio. Their horses shied away from Aragorn's stench, and they had trouble keeping them in check.

"What the hell did you do that for?" asked Legolas. "They were just going to go on by and leave us alone!"

"Who the hell are you?" inquired Eomer.

"I am Aragorn, son of—"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Eomer. "So you're that nutcase Numenorean freak who's been running around the countryside making trouble with just about everybody. What's with the elf and the dwarf?"

"Well-" started Aragorn, but he was cut off again.

"And that's not even a good elf!" continued Eomer. "He looks all shrimpy and inbred. I think you got ripped off."

Gimli snickered.

"And ooo, a dwarf," jeered Eomer. "What are you going to do, chop off my knee caps?"

This time, Legolas snickered. ****

"We're following some orcs," said Aragorn as soon as he was fairly sure Eomer was done making fun of his companions (not that he really cared—he just didn't want to be interrupted). "They stole some hobbits I was supposed to be protecting."

"Well, we killed those orcs," replied Eomer. "It was dark, so we probably killed those stupid hobbit things too. If you go off over there," he gestured back in the direction he had come from, "you'll find a big pile of burned orc corpses. The hobbits are probably in there somewhere."

"I doubt you would have mistaken them for orcs," objected Legolas. "They're a lot shorter and less ugly."

"Anybody see something like that?" asked Eomer of his men.

"I did," replied a man named Steve."I think my horse stepped on it. It kept yammering on and on about how it was going to get stepped on, after all. Anyone remember shoveling it up afterwards?"

There were a few murmurs, but no one seemed to remember any specifics about the corpses they had piled up.

"It was pretty dark and we were pretty drunk," explained Eomer. "Here, since we killed your friends, we'll give you some horses. Their names are Hasufel and Arod. Sorry. About killing your friends and all. That sucks."

Two horses were brought to the heroes and the Rohirrim left. Aragorn managed to convince Legolas and Gimli to ride together on the horse he guessed was Hasufel, since Eomer hadn't really specified which was which. He then climbed onto the other horse, which danced around and generally objected to his smell.

"This guy really stihihihihihinks!"complained the horse that was probably Arod. Actually, he didn't really say that because...well, you know why, damnit.

So off they rode, Gimli and Legolas complaining about each other, and Aragorn's horse still moving sideways every few steps.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp  
qpqpqpqpqpqp**


	4. Pippin Dies

Ever notice how in the first story, there were commercials at the beginning, and then they just stopped and never started again? Strange, huh? By the way, we invented Toaster Strudel, so bow before us and give us all your base! We set you up the bomb!

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 8:42

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

**qpqpqpqpqpqp **

Aragorn rode up to a huge smoking pile of orc corpses on his new horse, Probably Arod. Legolas and Gimli followed on Probably Hasufel. It was hard to say which of the two horses were more uncomfortable—Probably Hasufel was carrying the weight of two bickering morons, and Probably Arod was carrying a man with such a powerful stench that tears streamed from the horse's eyes and snot ran out his nose.

Aragorn dismounted at the foot of the pile. Actually, Probably Arod bucked him off, but Aragorn tried to pass it off as purposeful.

Aragorn threw pieces of orc every which way as he dug into the pile in search of pieces of hobbit.

"Hey, I think I found one of them!" cried Legolas, a charred, hairy foot clasped in his hand. Aragorn took it and peered closely at the hair.

"Nope," sighed Aragorn. "You see, this is not a hobbit foot. What happened here was that someone scalped an orc, and then his scalp fell onto his foot. Then when his corpse was burned, the fat melted and fused the two together."

"Eurgh!" exclaimed Legolas. "Eeeew, I touched it! It's on my hand!

"Guess you'd better clean yourself, then," smirked Gimli. Legolas glared at him.

"Wait a minute..." Aragorn stooped and looked at the ground. "Because I'm such a badass, I can tell that there was a hobbit here despite this ground having been trampled by multiple groups at multiple times."

"That's pretty cool," commented Gimli, standing next to a piked orc head at the edge of the pile.

"Oh look," muttered the Comical Donkey, stepping out of the shadows of Fangorn.. "They're going to recycle that stupid Lord of the Flies joke."

"Lord of the What?" asked Gimli. "I'm sorry, but I didn't hear you, as I was too busy admiring this skull. My gosh, it's skullicity is far beyond expectations, and it is much more skulltacular than any I have seen thus far."

"Hey, aren't you that stupid donkey who keeps bothering us?" demanded Aragorn, looking up from the hobbit tracks he'd been following around in a duck walk. "And since when can you talk?"

"It pleases my master for me to speak now," replied the Comical Donkey, stepping to the side to hide a jar of peanut butter. Then he stepped in the jar with a hind hoof quite comically, and staggered around with it plastered to his foot. He winced with each step, since his ass still hurt. A lot.

And it was comical that an ass had a sore ass.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

"I hate that donkey," muttered MysticButtCrystal. "Why does he keep showing up?"

"I thought we were rid of him after the flying monkeys had their way with him all those times," murmured Spoofmaster.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

The Donkey and Aragorn stared at each other for a moment, and then the Donkey left. He was the Comical Donkey, not the Awkward Donkey.

So Aragorn got back down to the business of looking for hobbit tracks.

He soon discovered that the hobbits had cut the ropes they were tied with, scurried around the battle field in a manner that endangered them greatly, and then run off into the woods.

"They've gone into Fangorn," sighed Aragorn, his happiness at having discovered that they had survived the battle quickly evaporating. "This is the last time I agree to baby-sit hobbits. They're more trouble than they're worth."

"Damn straight," grumbled Gimli, gripping his axe. "These trees have an ominous look about them,"

"Hmm, tastes like barbeque," commented Legolas softly to himself.

"What tastes like barbeque?" asked Aragorn sharply.

"N-nothing!" stammered Legolas, shoving his hand behind his back to conceal the elf saliva that was now glistening on his fingers.

Aragorn gave him a look that clearly said he knew exactly what tasted like barbeque, but then a thought hit him. Why would an orc foot covered in hair taste like barbeque?

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

THE NIGHT BEFORE-POST BATTLE

"Mm mm!" exclaimed one of the Rohirrim, smacking his lips. "Good cooking!" He sank his teeth into the barbequed orc leg he was holding with both hands, and orc juice dribbled down his chin.

Eomer and Steve stood a few yards away having a drinking contest, and half the Rohirrim were already too drunk to stand, and instead just kind of stumbled around propositioning bushes and making weird bets about who could blink the most times in a minute. Many soldiers gathered around bonfires lit from the one the orcs had made before their demise, enjoying a meal made of their enemies.

"Hey, we need some more wood!" yelled one, as the fire he was at died down.

"I'll do it," mumbled Eomer. "I alwaysh end up doing it."

He took an axe and went down to the trees, which immediately began to writhe.

"Yeah, writhe!" shouted Eomer, swaying drunkenly. "Ooo, I'm so scared! Come on then, writhe me to death! I'm waiting!"

He chuckled and he took a leak on the nearest tree and then chopped off some of its lower branches. He had to stand up on tiptoe, as what had used to be its lower branches had been whopped off by an orc earlier.

"Hey, guys!" yelled Eomer. "Let's show these trees who's boss!"

All the Rohirrim then came down to the forest and pissed on the trees. Then they, unlike the orcs, lost interest and departed back to their juicy orc meats and their kegs. They never went on a quest without at least twelve.

"Hey, look what we can do!" shouted Tom and Chuck, the owners of Hasufel and Arod. They were standing in the upper branches of some of the trees, clearly intending to jump down and land on their horses. Unfortunately for them, the trees turned out to be very adept at writhing, and they turned out to be very drunk. Both of them tumbled to the ground far form their targets, broke their necks, and died instantly.

"Hey, that's pretty cool!" grinned Eomer. "But...you died. And I liked you. This sucks."

After that their party took on more of a morose atmosphere, and they passed the night mourning their friends and torturing the trees that had killed them.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

MID-BATTLE, RIGHT WHEN PIPPIN WAS BEING STUPID

"Doom!" cried Pippin, staring up at the horse, which was pawing the air above him. "There is no way for me to escape from this! Any moment now, this beast of burden's weight will come crashing down on my face, and the end of me!"

The horse was no longer even trying to make it all look realistic. Its front legs moved in a circular pattern, the only sounds that came from its mouth were snorts and the occasional sighs and it looked very bored with the whole thing. On its back, Steve calmly leafed through a magazine he had pulled out of a saddlebag. He hoped that this thing would move out of the way soon. Whatever force ruled his universe clearly did not want the thing under his horse to die here, and therefore made it impossible to force his horse to crush it. Something similar had happened one night when he had tried to sneak in and kill Wormtongue in his sleep. For some reason, every time he brought his sword down at the sleeping figure, it would stop in midair, and nothing he could do would coax it to go down any farther.

"I wish that I had had more time," sniffed Pippin. "I am to die so very young! I wanted to do something with my life, but now I never will! My dreams of becoming a dirty old man, dashed across some rocks as gooey chunks of my brain!"

"Oh, shut up already!" snapped Steve, his patience wearing thin.

"Pippin, if you don't move we'll just replace you!" threatened MysticButtCrystal. "Here's a vision, jerk!"

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

PIPPIN'S VISION FROM MYSTICBUTTCRYSTAL

MysticButtCrystal walked out the front door of Mort's cabin and to the mouth of a large nearby cave, where he opened a secret door disguised as a bear. He walked past shelves and shelves of dusty crates of varying sizes, and stopped at one simply labeled "hobbits."

He searched along the shelf until he came to one particular box, and pulled it off the shelf. He pried it open with a crowbar, and pulled out a new Pippin, which he tucked under his arm. Styrofoam packing peanuts were still stuck in its hair when he sent it to Middle Earth.

The new Pippin looked down at the old Pippin for a moment before the horse's front legs finally came down, smashing the original Pippin to bits. He then went off with Merry and cooperated with the rest of the authors' intentions.

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

"While creepy, that seems like an empty threat," commented Pippin, unimpressed. "It's already been established that you get your characters from a processing center."

"Shut up!" yelled MysticButtCrystal, miffed.

By this time, Steve had had enough. He jumped down from his horse, and kicked Pippin out from under it.

"Oof!" replied Pippin. The horse's front end suddenly slammed down where he had been, and it tore off into the distance.

"Damnit!" yelled Steve, who then ran off after his horse. A moment later, he realized that he was wearing very nice clothes and had sacks of gold in his pockets and his hands. Extremely attractive naked women were chasing after him, and after a moment, his horse came back peacefully. He had obviously pleased the powers that ruled his universe.

Merry, who had been looking around for Pippin, grabbed his friend, and they ran off into the woods.

They had hardly gone ten steps before they heard the spitting orc coming after them. They knew it was him from his bad lisp as he yelled, "Get back here! I need to eat your kidneys to absorb your kidney power!"

Merry and Pippin quickly climbed a tree to avoid him.

Treebeard opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Apparently he had fallen asleep while standing in the middle of the forest again. Too much ent moonshine, probably.

He looked down and realized that he was being climbed on. He snatched both of the little beings and tossed them to the side. Damn circus, letting their midgets run wild again.

An orc stared up at him from the ground in horror. Treebeard grabbed it in one hand. He realized that he was feeling fairly hungry, so he bit its entire upper torso off. The legs twitched a bit as Treebeard chawed on the orc half like a piece of jerky.

"Holy crap!" commented Merry, staring at the spectacle before him. "That tree's eating the orc!"

Pippin stared in shock as Treebeard swallowed the orc half, smacked his lips, and addressed the orc's legs.

"Consume my brethren, will you?!" demanded Treebeard. "Well, I'd say I've consumed you pretty damn well. What do you say to that?!"

He shook the legs, which flopped around in a manner that he apparently found offensive. He growled to himself and shoved them in his mouth. After more chewing, he picked one of the orc's boots out of his teeth and flicked it into the dirt.

Merry and Pippin tried to run, but Treebeard caught them easily and picked them up.

"Oh well," he muttered to himself. "At least I can sell them back to the circus and make a little cash."

"What are you talking about?" asked Merry.

"Be quiet, midget," commanded Treebeard. He suddenly recalled that the White Wizard had told him to keep an eye out for midgets with hairy feet. He dutifully lifted Pippin up and examined his feet.

Well, he would just have to take them to the White Wizard then. And here he had gotten all happy about the chance to get a little spending money. Oh well. He could probably get something out of the White Wizard for this.

"Shut up and sit still or I'll eat you," said Treebeard to the hobbits, whom he placed on his head. They clung on to his upper branches in uncomfortable positions because there was no convenient place to sit. "I'm taking you to the White Wizard."

**qpqpqpqpqpqp**

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 7:57


	5. More About Hobbits Eating

HUGE IMPORTANT NOTE:

Hi, this is Spoofmaster. MBC's out of town for a day or two, or he'd be here to. As you may or may not have noticed, my PotC parody was recently deleted. Because my e-mail is broken, I can't know for sure why this happened. I have a suspicion, though, that it may be because of my review responses. And so, much as I regret to do this, I am taking review responses off of all my stories for the time being, just to be sure I won't get anything else deleted. They may or may not come back—it depends on what I find out when I get my e-mail back. IF this was the reason for the deletion, OOC Jack will probably be coming back as soon as my account is no longer frozen.

Oh, and speaking of frozen, that means no update this week. I can update again sometime next week. I will make an effort to use this extra week between updates to make a better and longer chapter than usual for this story and, if it is going back up, OOC Jack as well.

We have no authors' note!

...Except this one: Too bad it's late, sucks to be you, we've been busy with several entertaining activities, including:

-Painting a head

-Catching contagious diseases, and then lying around feeling bad

-Playing Pikmin 2

-Feeding corncobs to dogs

-Realizing how sick we are of writing this story

-Watching crappy movies

-Watching crappy TV shows

-Watching more LotR so we could actually write this chapter

-Wandering around 

-Writing stupid lists of things we've done this week instead of working on the chapter

-Noticing that the last five items started with W

-Damn, that's just eerie, isn't it?

-Yeah, I thought so too

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 7:28

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

Frodo and Sam trudged along behind Gollum, who scampered ahead on all fours. He turned and stared back at them, seemingly disgusted at how slowly they were moving. Frodo took this as permission to sit down, and both Gollum and Sam groaned. Frodo had a habit of stopping for a break every fifteen minutes, and it was getting old fast. They had moved past that rocky (not as in Balboa) area, and were in a creepy-looking swampy (not as in...wait, that doesn't work here) area instead. Isn't Middle Earth great? You could take a camera and get a snapshot of any landscape, anywhere, and it would work as an image for a manna card in Magic.

Sam grudgingly sat down next to Frodo, and Gollum wandered off to find something to eat.

"I hate this place," mumbled Sam. "It's too quiet."

"Yes, no nice crunchable birdses, rabbitses, or fish..eses...eseses fishesssesst," lamented Gollum, trying to figure out how to apply his speech impediment to the word fish as he came back. In his hand, he held a wad of squirming night crawlers, which he slurped down one after another like living pieces of spaghetti.

Frodo got out an MRE, and since it was near time for their single daily meal anyway, Sam didn't yell at him to put it away. He let out a sigh, though, when he saw which meal it was. This was the third vegetarian meal they'd had! How many vegetarians did the elves expect to have in their military?! Apparently they couldn't eat anything with a face, but could easily put an arrow through a face. Stupid elves.

The hobbits split the cold food, and Sam prepared the chemical heater because Frodo was just too much of an idiot to work it. He had let Frodo do it once, and that was one incident Sam didn't want to repeat.

Feeling spiteful, Sam threw his dry, spread-less vegetable cracker to Gollum and squeezed the peanut butter directly into his mouth. Gollum picked up the cracker and took a large bite out of it.

Understandably, Gollum then gagged and writhed around on the ground for a bit before throwing the rest of the cracker as far as he could and puking. Dry bits of cracker and still-writhing chunks of night crawlers formed a disturbing little pile on the ground.

"It tries to poison us!" Cried Gollum. "Stupid fat hobbit!"

Sam made no reply, as Gollum's accusation was entirely correct.

"NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERCH!" cried a Nazgul.

"Oh shit!" yelled Sam. He and Frodo hastily grabbed their food, Sam burning himself on the chemical heater, and they pulled their cloaks over themselves. Gollum dove under a large clump of grass, and they all tried to be inconspicuous.

Far above, Dexter the Nazgul rode on his mighty steed, Thomas the horrible winged monster. Where did his horse go? Well, Dexter didn't even have a horse to begin with. We've never even seen him before, remember?

"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!" replied Thomas.

"NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERCH!" screeched Dexter.

"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!" retorted Thomas.

The two of them were actually having a nice chat about Gilligan's Island, but the hobbits didn't know that. And, since Gollum and the hobbits remained unseen, Thomas and Dexter just kept on going, completely oblivious. They might have remained oblivious anyway, though, since neither of them was really paying attention. Dexter figured that anyone stupid enough to cut across the Dead Marshes was never going to make across anyway, so why fret and search? Besides, there was no way for him to sense the Bra even if it was below him. All those pasty ghosts kept throwing off his evil senses. It was like wearing thermo goggles inside a furnace.

After Dexter had gone, the hobbits got back to their meal. They were shaken, though, and didn't even really enjoy the pound cake as they glanced around nervously at the sky. Gollum didn't come out at all until they were moving on. He'd been kind of tired, and what with lying under a clump of grass and all, he'd fallen asleep.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

"Look at all those lights," murmured Frodo, looking around at the swamp, which had come alive with hundreds of strange little tiki lantern things bobbing around in midair.

"Don't follow the lights," advised Gollum. "They leads you right into the water, and then the narsty ghostseses try to drown you when you jump in to try to eat their delicious corpses."

"What?" snapped Sam. "Damn, you're one nasty thing, you know that?"

Frodo, like usual, wasn't paying attention and was following a particularly attractive light. It had promised him French toast and jam, so he trusted it completely.

"Mmmm, light toast," drooled Frodo. Then he fell in the water.

"Whrrrrrraaaaaaaarrrrr!" commented the local ghost. "Heerrrrrrrrr issss yurrrrrrrrrr toasssssst and jaammmmmmmmmm!" It moaned, holding up a plate full of scrumptious-looking French toast and jam, which was somehow waterproof.

"AHH, A GHOST, A SCARY GHOST!" yelled Frodo realizing that he could somehow breathe in this freaky ghost environment. Then he realized that this ghost really didn't look very threatening, and was offering him French toast and jam. "But...okay! Thank you for this French toast and jam! Sorry I yelled."

"'Ss allrright," replied the ghost. "I jussssstt gett ssssso lonnnnnnely. It'ssss niiiccccce tto havvve commmpannny."

Just then, Sam's and Gollum's hands plunged into the water, gripped Frodo's shoulders firmly, and hauled him out of the water. Frodo emerged still clutching his French toast and jam.

"What did you do that for?" demanded Frodo. "That ghost was nice, and he gave me French toast and jam!"

"Really?" asked Sam.

"Yeah!" replied Frodo, holding up the plate of French toast and jam as evidence.

"Hey, that's pretty cool!" exclaimed Sam. "Let's go hang out with him!"

And so, both hobbits jumped back into the water. The ghost, who turned out to be an old dead soldier named Staff Sergeant Edward Tuttle, served them both lots of delicious foods and drinks, and told them about himself and listened to their stories in turn. Apparently, all the dead of the battle had decided to stick around the marshes and do the whole haunting thing. Back then, it had seemed like a cool idea, but after a few thousand years it just seemed like a very stupid one. I mean, one ghost can go off and haunt a place and be successful, but when you have thousands of ghosts in one place, people just start avoiding the entire area. Edward informed them that if they had fallen into almost any of the other pools, the resident ghosts would have just tried to strangle them. He, however, had been one of the main opponents of the whole haunting thing from the beginning, and enjoyed meeting new people. He advised them to stay away from the other ghosts, but suggested that perhaps they could mark his pool and come see him again sometime.

"Why do you stay here?" asked Frodo. "I mean, isn't there an afterlife you could go to?"

"I realllyy donnn't knnnnnoww," replied Edward uncertainly. "I knnnow therrre's onne sommmewherre. Affter the battle, sommme other ghostsss cammme up inn wagonnnss and sssaid they were goinnng to take uss there. Therre wasssnn't enough roommm, though, annd mmost of uss got lefft behinnnd. At ffirsst, we thought theyy'd comme back fffor uss. I guesss we ssshould havvve knnnownn better thann to expect civvilll ssservannntss to havvve a good wwwork ethic. Afffter allll, you rrrealy cann't expect mmuch mmore out of ssssomeone whho commmmitted sssuicide."

"You should leave and try to find it," advised Sam. "You're obviously not happy here."

"Mmmaybe I wwwilll," sighed Edward. "Thhhannnks fffforr brrinnginng mmme to mmmy ssennssess. You'd better gett going too. Thhhat quessst of yourrss iss pretty immmportant. Affter all, I died fffor it onnnce."

The hobbits thanked Edward profusely and climbed back up onto the bank. They'd actually spent two days down in the water with Edward. Luckily, Gollum had hung around, hoping that by some miracle, the Bra would come loose and bob to the surface. It was hard to say if he looked relieved or disappointed when Frodo and Sam clambered up out of the pool.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

Gimli examined a leaf that was dark with blood. He touched it, and stuck his finger in his mouth.

"Yech!" cried Gimli, spitting the blood out. "Orc blood!"

"And you can tell by taste?" frowned Legolas. "How much blood do you taste on a regular basis?"

"Erm..." Gimli shifted uncomfortably. "Well, the thing about that is...."

"Shut up, both of you," commanded Aragorn, and the elf and dwarf fell silent. Listening to those two idiots was bad at the best of times. But having to listen to it while tracking hobbits through a creepy forest? No.

"These trees are very old," commented Legolas after a brief analysis. "And they're really pissed."

"What do trees have to be pissed about?" grumbled Gimli. "For that matter, what business do trees have feeling at all?"

"The elves woke up the trees a long time ago," lectured Aragorn. "The elves did all sorts of stupid shit like that. Way back when they weren't burnt out yet, they went around messing with everything."

"You elves really have a history of doing stupid things, don't you?" chuckled Gimli.

"Yea, well at least we weren't created by some upstart Vala who didn't have the patience to wait for Eru's real children!" spat Legolas.

"Don't you be talking about Aule that way!" roared Gimli.

"As a Numenorean, I'm better than both of you, so shut the hell up," interjected Aragorn.

"Yeah, and what happened to Numenor, huh?!" mocked Legolas. "Oh yes, it sank!"

"Whatever," sighed Aragorn, rolling his eyes. "Can we please just get back to tracking down the hobbits?"

Legolas and Gimli grumbled, but complied.

"I feel something," commented Legolas after a few minutes of silence.

"What is it now?!" snapped Aragorn.

"Feminine itch?" suggested Gimli.

"No, just a really badass wizard coming our way!" retorted Legolas. "It's probably that Saruman guy."

"Shit," said Aragorn. "Okay, everyone hide behind a tree, and when he comes by, we'll jump him. We gotta be fast, or he'll turn us into iguanas or something."

The three adventurers hid behind trees. Soon, a shining white figure walked into view.

"Get him!" yelled Aragorn, jumping out and slashing at the figure. Legolas and Gimli hopped out from their hiding places as well, and also attacked. The white figure held up a hand and force-pushed them all onto their asses.

"First you leave me to die, and then you try to jump out and kill me!" complained Gandalf, turning his shine factor down a ways so they could see his face. "What is with you people?!"

"Gandalf?" wondered Aragorn, staring up at him. "How? You died!"

"Thanks to you, yes!" growled Gandalf. "Anyway, Eru sent me back."

"How? Why?" asked Legolas.

"I'll tell you," replied Gandalf.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

SPIFFY FLASHBACK

Gandalf stood atop a mountain, having escaped from the cavern below. Unfortunately, the Ball-Rog had been a mommy, and he had been pursued by countless baby Ball-Rogs, each about the size of a normal dodge ball. He was killing them right and left, but they gradually pummeled him to death. Once they had killed him, they wandered off, leaving his body in the snow.

Gandalf's spirit traveled through space, time, and other flashy-looking places, and came finally to stand at Eru's feet.

"You wizards have a lot to answer for," rumbled Eru. "The whole reason you exist is to prevent what is happening now from ever occurring, and you never seem to do anything useful. You just wander around saying cryptic shit to my children."

"I've been trying!" protested Gandalf.

"You know when you should have been trying?" replied Eru. "You should have been trying back when you could have stopped it all without all this trouble. But no, you were spending that time getting high with hobbits!"

"But there were other wizards who were supposed to be working also!" cried Gandalf. "Saruman was the one watching Sauron, not me!"

"Yes, you're right," admitted Eru. "The sad part is, of all the wizards, you're the one that fucked up least! I mean, Saruman turned evil and Radagast is a daft bastard who spends all his time talking to birds! Why the hell would you talk to birds?"

"I have done better than the others, at least," smiled Gandalf.

"That's not saying much," frowned Eru. "The thing is, though, the whole world that I and my Valar spent so much time creating is about to go down to some half-assed former henchman of Morgoth, and that just pisses me off. I don't want it said that my creations were too weak to stand up on their own and had to be saved by the Valar themselves a second time! Do you know how absolutely annoying it is to know that my regulars can't even take out someone on their own level? Middle Earth is supposed to be self-sustaining!"

"But what can I do now?" demanded Gandalf. "I'm dead!"

"Here's what I'm going to do," replied Eru. "I'm going to send you back, and I'm going to give you Saruman's color. You know, white, the top rank. It isn't because you did a good job, though, and know this: it's your last damn chance. I'm going to give you better wizard powers, and you'd better give me some results."

Gandalf flew back through all that cool-looking universe and back to himself. He awoke in the snow, sat up, and headed off to find his party and get to work.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

"Wow, Eru's not what I expected," commented Legolas. "He sure has a foul mouth!"

"Yes, well you wouldn't expect the future kind to be a filthy pervert, now would you?" replied Gandalf, glancing at Aragorn. "I found Merry and Pippin, and they're fine, so you can stop worrying and get on to more pressing matters with me. Hopefully their presence here will make the ents get their shit together, because there's not much more I can do about that situation if they don't. Meanwhile, the four of us are going to Edoras. We've got to get the Rohirrim organized if we're going to win this thing, and Theoden King has demons in his head or something."

"What's an ent?" wondered Gimli.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli stepped out of the shadows of Fangorn. Probably Hasufel and Probably Arod looked up from where they had been grazing, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli went to them.

Gandalf stood out in the open, and whistled.

Well, he tried to whistle, but whistling's hard. Eventually he just blew a big, wet raspberry.

Shadowfax, recognizing his master's call, ran up. His name would have been cool if it hadn't sounded like high-end office equipment.

"This is Shadowfax," explained Gandalf, stroking his horse's neck. "He's the kickassest horse that's ever been, and I got him from Theoden as a bribe to make me leave."

"How'd you manage that?" wondered Aragorn. "I've heard of this horse. "The whole damn world's heard of this horse! Why would he give him to you?"

"I used the same trick Han Solo used to get the Millennium Falcon," said Gandalf, waving a hand dismissively. "They said to take any horse, and I took the best."

"Who the hell is Han Solo?" asked Legolas. "And what's a Millennium Falcon?"

"We wizards know things others don't," replied Gandalf. "And sometimes we forget that others don't know them. Let it suffice to say that he was very tricky, and the Millennium Falcon was really good."

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 6:49


	6. A Continued Decline in Creativity

Hey, I know, OOC Jack isn't back up yet. We've been having technical difficulties concerning our regular computer. The delay in this story is due both to the freezing of our account and then a weekend-long convention, during which we did no writing, nor even thought of writing.

Also, this story is no longer garunteed to have weekly updates. There's a lot going on right now, and we just can't keep up. We'll be sending chapters out to you as fast as we can sit down and write them, though, and we do promise to try to write at least a little bit every few days.

Crap-shooting monkey!

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 4:00

"Once, I was at an entmoot, and I had too much entdraught," commented Treebeard. "I puked all over Quickbeam, haha, serves him right, hasty bastard."

Treebeard had been telling Merry and Pippin gems like this story for hours now, and they were both rightfully sick of it. Pippin stared off into space, a blank expression on his face and drool dribbling down his chin, and Merry bashed his head repeatedly against one of Treebeard's branches.

"And so, this other time," continued Treebeard, "Quickbeam was walking through the forest, and then I ran up behind him and punched him in the back of the head! And then he all started screaming, and he was like, 'Treebeard, why'd you hit me in the back of the head?' and I was like, 'Because you suck!'"

Treebeard doubled over laughing at the memory, and Merry and Pippin fell off his head and into a thorn bush.

"I'm not picking you up again," complained Treebeard. "We're close enough that you can just walk."

Five hundred yards later, Merry and Pippin arrived in a clearing, complete with standard babbling brook.

"Stay here and don't die," commanded Treebeard, and he left.

"So we're going to Rohan?" asked Aragorn.

"You've asked me three times now, and the answer is still yes," replied Gandalf.

"Why are we going to Rohan?" asked Aragorn.

"Because the king's drunk or crazy or something," explained Gandalf. "We need him to stop letting his country run to ruin if we're going to use his army."

"Ah," said Aragorn. "So how are we going to make him stop being stupid?"

"I dunno," shrugged Gandalf. "I figured I'd just smack him around some and see if that helped."

"I feel so much better now that we have a wizard to make our plans," grumbled Gimli sarcastically.

Gandalf muttered something under his breath, and Gimli was instantly turned into an armadillo. Legolas laughed and pointed, even though he had to twist around backwards to do it, as he was riding on Probably Hasufel with the dwarf-turned-armadillo behind him.

"Man, that would have made my life so much easier a few days ago..." muttered Aragorn. Legolas continued to point and laugh at Gimli, who then bit his finger.

"Hey Gandalf, can you turn him into other things?" inquired Legolas. "I think he'd make a great horse. Then I could ride him, and he'd be useful for something!"

Gandalf muttered under his breath once more, and Legolas turned into a horse,knocking Probably Hasufel over and nearly breaking the real horse's back in the process.

"Damn, Gandalf!" exclaimed Aragorn, looking back at Legolas, who had just gotten up and begun to follow them with a somewhat bewildered look on his horse face. Gimli still clung to Probably Hasufel's back, looking...armadillo-ish. "What's up with you?"

"How would you feel if you were brought back to life and sent to work with bickering idiots?" demanded Gandalf.

"Okay," shrugged Aragorn.

Frodo, Sam, and Gollum looked down a steep slope to where they could see a column of genome soldiers marching toward a very large and ominous-looking black gate. This was the Black Gate, so known because it was both black and a gate. That's a killer combination there.

"Who's there?" yelled all the genome soldiers in unison. This startled the hobbits quite a bit, until they realized it was a chant the soldiers were still saying. "What's that noise? Whose footprints are these? Huh?"

The genome soldiers continued in their chant, but the hobbits stopped paying attention because it was so stupid. Well, Frodo kept paying attention, but that's because he was a moron.

A bunch of ogres and orcs and things worked a large mass of neat doohickeys behind the gate, causing it to open. Sam leaned far forward, trying to see what was going on. Gollum took the opportunity to give him a good solid shove, and Sam went tumbling down the slope, hitting several boulders on the way down.

To Gollum's dismay, Frodo leapt after him and also hit the boulders, only more so.

Sam was buried up to his midriff in gravel and other assorted bits of Middle-Earth when Frodo reached him. They both began to work frantically to dig him out.

"Huh?" wondered a genome soldier who had been looking in their direction and saw the rockslide. A question mark appeared over his head, and he went to investigate. The hobbits continued to dig until they noticed him standing just fifteen feet away, staring in their direction.

Frodo threw his cloak over both himself and Sam, thinking that maybe if he couldn't see the soldier any more, the soldier couldn't see him.

Surprisingly enough, this ploy worked. It wasn't because the soldier believed that he had seen two hobbits turn into a piece of cloth. It was actually because genome soldiers are incapable of seeing a person until they are within ten feet of each other. By the time he got that close, all that was visible was a gray cloth lying on the ground. He accepted this as normal, just like all those cardboard boxes he ran into everywhere.

The soldier went back into formation, and Frodo finished digging Sam out. Both hobbits braced to dash into Mordor as soon as the soldiers were almost through. Just as they got up, though, Gollum grabbed both of them and pulled them back to the ground.

"What are you doing?" demanded Sam, shaking Gollum's hand off.

"Hobbits must not go into Mordor!" explained Gollum. "There's orcses everywhere, and they'll catch you!"

"We have to go to Mordor, Gollum," sighed Frodo. "And the gate's closing."

"There's another way!" exclaimed Gollum.

"Why didn't you tell us before?!" shouted Sam angrily.

"You didn't ask," replied Gollum. "And I have this pain in all the diodes down my left side."

"Voon," commiserated Frodo.

"Fine, whatever," snapped Sam. "What kind of way is it?"

"There's a lot of forestssses, and then a big cli—I mean, staircase, and then you goes in a cave full of...uhh...cake!"

"That sounds pretty good," commented Frodo.

"Oh, come on, Frodo!" protested Sam. "That's got to be a bunch of bullshit!"

"I trust Gollum's judgment," replied Frodo, giving Sam a Meaningful Look.

"Does it ever strike you how immature we are for people in our mid-twenties?" asked Pippin, looking at Merry over a bowl of entdraught. "Kind of odd, isn't it?"

"Don't even get started on it," muttered Merry. "I know you'll just start in on how it's the fault of the "authors" or something."

Pippin shrugged, and drank some entdraught.

"Hoom," burped Pippin.

"Hey, Pippin," commented Merry. "You sound like that idiot, Treebeard."

"Really?" asked Pippin. He drank again, allowing him to do an impression of Treebeard. "And then one time, I slept with this chick, but she turned out to be a dude!"

"Let me try!" exclaimed Merry, laughing. He grabbed the bowl from Pippin, and did his own impression. "I hate Quickbeam! He needs a boot up his ass!"

Both hobbits got up and began stomping around the clearing, passing the entdraught back and forth and keeping up the mockery.

"Baroomahoomadingdongdooooom!"

"And this one time, I did this other thing that's stupid and no one wants to know about!"

"My name is two nouns jammed together!"

"Yeah! Meet my friend, Brambleass!"

By now the hobbits had moved to the edge of the clearing. Quick as possessed tree roots bursting out of the ground and grabbing someone, the roots of the nearest tree burst out of the ground and grabbed Merry and Pippin.

"Arg, no, tree roots!" screamed Pippin.

"Yeah, they're dragging us into the tree!" cried Merry.

"That's not what I'm worried about!" yelled Pippin. "Haven't you ever seen Evil Dead?"

Merry would have hit Pippin, but they were both already inside the tree. Besides, he thought he could feel a root squirming its way into his pants. He heard loud breathing behind him.

"Hey, who else is in here?" worried Pippin.

"It's Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadil-o!" sang Tom Bombadil happily.

"So that's where he went!" realized Pippin. "It felt like something was missing a while back. Hey, Tom, you didn't really eat those horses, did you?"

"What are you even talking about?" yelled Merry.

"Well, actually," admitted/sang Tom Bombadil guiltily, "I ate those horses, horse-a-horse-a-dil-o!"

And so, the three were stuck being molested by the tree for a few hours, until Treebeard showed up.

"What's this?" wondered Treebeard. "Roamingroots, are you stealing and molesting my guests again?!"

Roamingroots twisted its branches in what would have looked like a shrug if the tree hadn't been so obviously enjoying itself.

"I warned you last time!" growled Treebeard. Then he kicked Roamingroots over, exposing the two hobbits and Tom Bombadil, who were entangled in the roots in a fairly suggestive manner. "You again!" grumbled Treebeard, pulling Tom Bombadil out. "I told you to stop coming into my forest and having sex with my trees!"

Tom Bombadil looked very slightly ashamed of himself, and Treebeard chucked him like a football so far he soon disappeared into the distance.

"All right, come along," sighed Treebeard. The hobbits carefully eased themselves away from the roots and stood up.

"Are all trees like that?" asked Pippin as soon as he and Merry were sitting on Treebeard and they were all on the move.

"Hell no!" replied Treebeard. "Roamingroots was a freaking pervert!"

"So who do trees normally have sex with, then?" wondered Merry.

"They reproduce by spores," explained Treebeard.

"Do you reproduce by spores?" inquired Pippin rather rudely.

"Thankfully no," stated Treebeard. "We get little ents with entwives. Unfortunately, we don't know where the entwives are, so we're kind of screwed as a species."

"What happened?" pondered Pippin.

"They left," sighed Treebeard. "They all just got together one night while we were sleeping and left. I can't imagine why."

"That's too bad," sympathized Merry.

SPIFFTACULAR FLASHBACK

Treebeard sat in his clearing, watching the babbling brook intensely.

"Can you look away from that for one minute?" grumbled his girlfriend, Treecleanshavenface.

"Why don't you just get me some more entdraught, wench?" requested Treebeard, giving her and appreciative slap on the ass. She tried to give his a not-so-appreciative slap on the face, but he just grabbed her arm and locked her into an involuntary kiss.

END FLASHBACK

"Why did they have to leave?" moaned Treebeard. "Those were such good times!"

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 2:55

Hey, sorry about no review responses this week, but we currently don't have much access to anything, and we're really busy trying to back everything up right now.


	7. Papa Smurf was Never Really There

Yay, long periods of time with no updates at all! Platy, once again you are an inspiration for our writing style.

Here it is a month after writing that above paragraph. Huzzah! Spoofmaster's been very busy and MysticButtCrystal has trouble paying attention to anything that isn't Halo. His gamer tag is The Atreides, by the way, and he wishes you a merry wort wort wort.

And here it is a month or two after writing that above paragraph and this chapter. It's been sitting on the computer 95 complete since before Christmas. Sorry about all this. We got kind of burnt out, what with all the stuff people were always making us do.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 1:03

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Papa Smurf, and Gandalf arrived at Edoras in their customary forms. Except for Papa Smurf, because he was never there in the first place.

"I'm sure glad I was able to get back to my proper form!" exclaimed Legolas.

"Me too," agreed Gimli. "It was really lucky that we found that magic pie!"

"Yeah, lucky," muttered Aragorn sarcastically.

A sentry saw them coming, and whisked the welcome mat off of the ground. He sniffed at them derisively and hid it under his flouncy coat before leaving.

"I don't think we can expect a warm welcome here," mused Gandalf.

"We needed a wizard to tell us that, too," grumbled Gimli unappreciatively.

"Yes," replied Gandalf sternly. "Yes you did."

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"Uncle, Theodred died!" wailed Eowyn to Theoden. "Don't you even care?"

"Mbleggghhhhhhhhh," replied Theoden thoughtfully.

"Won't you even go see him?" she cried. Theoden stared blankly off into space, a glob of drool inching its way through his facial hair. Eowyn sobbed and ran back to Theodred's room.

"Hey there, sexy lady," grated Grima, trying to sound masculine. The effect was more reminiscent of a rat standing on its hind legs. This was probably at least partially due to the way he was clutching at a large graham cracker and nibbling at it rapidly on and off.

"What do you want, pervert?!" snapped Eowyn.

"Why, you of course!" beamed Grima greasily. "I just got this signed by Theoden King. It says that this afternoon, you have to marry either me or a raccoon!"

"Fine!" shouted Eowyn, still very much in grief about her cousin dying and everything.

Grima grinned. He was finally going to get some! After twenty-five years of trying, this was his lucky day!

"Bring on the raccoon!" commanded Eowyn.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Papa Smurf and Gimli dismounted from their horses and strode up to the entrance of Meduseld. Except for Papa Smurf, because he was never really there.

"Stop right there," commanded Stinky the Stinky Stink Stink. Readers across the globe groaned inwardly at the pathetic attempt at creating a character name. "You must relinquish your weapons before you can go in there," whined Stinky, posing dramatically.

"Hmmph," grumbled Aragorn, but he, Legolas, Gandalf, Papa Smurf, and Gimli all moved to comply. Except for Papa Smurf, who was never really there and was such a pinko commie that he probably wouldn't carry a weapon if he was.

However, as Aragorn brought his sword up to hand it to Stinky, he suddenly thrust his hand out, smacking Stinky in the temple with the hilt and knocking him out cold.

"Wow!" said Gimli. "Are you sure that didn't kill him?"

"No," admitted Aragorn. The rest of the group shrugged indifferently, and they all headed in.

Gandalf was driving Legolas nuts. He kept linking and unlinking arms with him rapidly as they walked up the hall next to each other. It was all making Legolas feel very jumpy and upset.

"Theoden, your hospitality sucks!" insulted Gandalf, before farting derisively.

Theoden, cowed by Gandalf's attack, slumped his head over in a new direction and mumbled incoherently anew.

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Gimli, looking at Theoden. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. What's even going on here?" wondered Legolas. Up in front of the throne, Eowyn was standing in a wedding dress next to a raccoon in a tuxedo. Her hands were tied, her feet were hobbled, and she was chained to a pile of cinderblocks.

"Nothing!" yelled Grima. "Nothing's wrong with him, and nothing's going on here except for a plain old-fashioned wedding!"

He prodded Eowyn with a large club when she had showed signs of trying to escape.

"Hey guys," whispered the raccoon over his little communicator. "Have you got a plan to get me out of this yet?"

"Not yet, Sly," sighed Bentley nasally on the other end.

"What is it now, Gandalf Stormcrow?" demanded Grima. "More bad news? You only ever come here when you have a problem!"

"Shut up, Grima!" snapped Gandalf. He smacked Grima upside the head with his staff, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and shoved him over to Aragorn, Gimli, Papa Smurf, and Legolas. Except for Papa Smurf, because he was never really there. They then proceeded to give him noogies, Indian burns, wet willies, and the occasional punch in the face as they pushed him back and forth.

"He must be under the control of Saruman!" proclaimed Gandalf, facing Theoden.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Far away in his tower, Saruman watched the scene through his Palantir.

"Nuh-uh!" he corrected. "Not for a while now! I don't want any part in this stupid thing!"

And with that, he firmly crossed his arms. Outside, a large crash and numerous orcish screams were heard. He groaned and stuffed another toffee in his mouth.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"Oh, wait!" realized Gandalf. 'No one's controlling him…he's just hopped up on some sort of drugs! Here," he said, untying Eowyn. "Go make us a pot of coffee. This is going to take a while."

Sly, noticing that he seemed to be totally in the clear, bolted over to a tapestry, climbed a tassel, and jumped out the window.

"Guards!" whined Grima, as he was knocked down and his pants stolen by Aragorn. "Can't you see that I need your help?"

"Did you just hear something?" asked the sergeant present.

"Nope," smiled a lance corporal. "It's been a really quiet day today." The two went back to their cards, as did all their fellows.

"Aww, come on!" complained Grima, as he tried and failed to retrieve his pants. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were now tossing them back and forth and laughing as Grima chased them around. "This isn't because I cut your dental plan, is it?"

The guards steadfastly ignored him. In actuality, it had much more to do with the long hours of watching him screw up their country.

Then again, dental care was expensive.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

SOME HOURS LATER

"Augh, my head hurts!" groaned Theoden. "I feel like I'm waking up from a nightmare and a bad night out."

"Grima Wormtongue has been dosing you with horse tranquilizers," said Gandalf. "Over the past few months, he's destroyed your country and gotten your son killed."

"It's true!" sniffed Eowyn, before recounting all the shit that had happened.

"What?!" shouted Theoden, hopping up angrily. He strode to where Grima now lay on the floor curled up into a ball. The three heroes were kicking him and laughing, but backed off when they saw Theoden's face.

"Hello there, Grima," hissed Theoden through his teeth. "Let me help you up!" He grabbed Grima's arm and twisted it violently. A loud popping sound was heard, and Grima cried out in pain. "Oh, I'm sorry!" shouted Theoden, trodding on the broken arm, eliciting another yelp of pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to have a discussion!"

He grabbed Grima by the throat and pulled him up onto his feet. He paused for a second, and then punched Grima in the face, knocking him down again. "You sure are clumsy, Grima!" Theoden grumbled, before grabbing him by the throat once more and hauling him up into the air.

"It's come to my attention," ground out the king, "that you have been managing my country in certain ways that I do not necessarily approve. I am displeased, Grima, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to fire you. Eowyn, would you like a word with him before he leaves?"

Eowyn calmly walked up and kicked Grima, who at this point was turning blue from the choking, squarely in the nuts.

"Aww, she's such an elegant young lady, is she not?" mused Theoden happily. "Oh dear, Grima, you're beginning to look a bit sickly. You need some fresh air!"

With that, he threw Grima out the door and down the stairs, after which he turned around and addressed the sergeant present.

"Tie him to the back of a horse," Theoden instructed in low tones. "Drag him for ten miles out in the wilderness, and then leave him there. Make sure to cover him in honey and leave him somewhere near an ant mound."

"Gladly, sir!" grinned the sergeant, snapping a salute and then running off to obey. "Hey, Grima! I'm going to give you a ride! Isn't that nice?"

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Gimli. "These people are scary!"

"And don't you forget it!" stated Theoden, before collapsing back into his throne and into a pretty damned nasty depression. He brushed at his face absently, and his hand came away with a big mass of cobwebs that had previously appeared to be a long gray beard.

"Perhaps you'd feel a bit better if you had your old sword," soothed Gandalf, handing Theoden's sword to him.

"A bit," admitted Theoden.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Sorry it's short, but it's a better stopping point than it would be otherwise, and we're tired. At least it's a chapter, right?

Sorry about the weeks (change to: months) of nothingness. We've just been kind of burnt out. Sorry also about the lack of review responses. has made threats about them.

Speaking of ….

Once upon a time, there were two hobbits named MagicFootEmerald and Humorlord. They liked to write stories about their various hobbity hobbies, such as the books they read and the plays they saw. One thing that had started them on this with such zeal was that a certain publisher had promised to print the things they wrote for all to read and enjoy in a non-profit manner that was beneficial to both of them.

So they wrote, and wrote with great glee, and while a lot of it was crap, they did occasionally come up with something half-decent. And so, the day came when it was time for the hobbits to turn in the result of their long hours of work to be published. They turned it in promptly, all typed up very neatly and ready to just be copied off without any trouble to anyone at all.

Unfortunately, the publishing company had bought an evil robot from Sauron. Its name was Quickedit, and it ran on steam and broken dreams.

Quickedit chewed up the little hobbits' charming little stories and spat them back out as illegible bastard versions of their former selves. These prints were then pasted sloppily into books that were more advertisements than not. When the hobbits complained, they were met with threats, and when they tried to have civil conversations with their fans, they were met with passive-aggressive attacks.

The hobbits had great perseverance, though, and kept on at their writing, only now adopting a love of bad metaphor and snappy passive-aggressive attacks of their own. With each day, though, the evil Quickedit and his like-minded evil robots came up with new ways to hurt them, and were supported by the publishers, who made a sick little power trip out of it. The hobbits hoped and hoped that things would get better someday, so that they could write with glee once more.

That day has not yet come, and will not come until a certain publisher stops abusing all its friendly hobbit writers and lets them return to how things were before their evil robots and abusive ways. By then, though, our little hobbit writers will probably have left or given up.

The end.

Oh wait…that didn't have ANYTHING to do with Sorry.

**Note: Since we originally wrote this little story, Quickedit has gotten better and is no longer the bane of the hobbits' existence. However, it is still inconvenient and redundant, and hobbits everywhere still live in the shadows of threats, and Quickedit still has an insatiable appetite for devouring scene dividers of any kind.**


	8. When Satire Derails and Falls in a River...

A few nights after updating: Wow, we're writing again really soon after an update! Is this the dawn of a new era of putting out new chapters on time?

…monkeys are funny.

Who even knows how long later: …bloo.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 0:08

Snake Plissken had finally managed to escape with Mort after spending much time wandering around and being captured and made to compete in death sports.

"Who are you?" asked Mort.

"Shut up," snapped Snake, smashing 343 Guilty Spark over the head repeatedly with a stick.

Wait, does he have a head? He's more of an oval than anything else.

"I object most strongly to this, Reclaimer!" whirred 343 Guilty Spark.

"Shut up and teleport us back!" growled Snake.

"I am under specific instructions not to let you return without the warthog," reprimanded the robot primly.

"Warthog?" asked Mort. "Aww, crap."

"Looks more like a puma to me," grumbled Snake, tearing away the bushes he had hidden it under. "There, we have the puma. Now can we hurry up?"

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

MASTER LIFE CLOCK: 0:03

The warthog popped out of thin air thirty feet above the ground in front of Mort's cabin. It soon realized that it was out of place, and proceeded to fall and get stuck in a tree. Mort and Snake were thrown out of it on impact, and arrived on the ground shortly thereafter.

Snake grabbed Mort by the left leg and dragged him into the cabin, ignoring his extremely loud protests against such an action. Guilty Spark, meanwhile, flew off into the sky and disappeared into the distance.

"Here!" shouted Snake, throwing Mort onto the couch. "Give me the antidote!"

"What antidote?" asked a bemused Spoofmaster, turning from her work at the computer.

"Oh, that's bullshit!" yelled Snake. "They already did that in Escape from LA!"

"Fine!" huffed Spoofmaster. "Here's your flippin' antidote." She tossed him a cookie, which he gobbled up greedily.

"There wasn't really any antidote in that, was there?" asked MysticButtCrystal.

"No," admitted Spoofmaster quietly, "but it'll make him feel better."

At this point, Snake no longer really felt like killing anyone, so he just threw an ashtray at MysticButtCrystal's head before stalking out the door.

"Well, now that that's over," Spoofmaster rubbed her hands gleefully, "Mort can start cooking us dinner."

Mort gave no reaction.

"Ohhh…" groaned Spoofmaster, running over to the couch and discovering that "Mort" was really just an inflatable clown with a stupid hat taped on its head and "mart" written on its chest with Magic Marker. "Crap!"

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Snake and Mort walked through the woods.

"Thanks for not handing me over to them," said Mort. "But what is it you really want me for?"

"Shit, I don't know," sighed Snake, slumping his shoulders. "Just get the hell away from me, you creepy little freak."

"Aww," sighed Mort, watching Snake leave.

Having nowhere else to go, and realizing that they would just keep sending people after him, Mort walked dejectedly back to his cabin, where he found MysticButtCrystal and Spoofmaster chucking rocks at the warthog to try to knock it out of the tree.

"Careful!" shouted MysticButtCrystal when one of Spoofmaster's rocks shattered the windshield, despite how he'd knocked off a hubcap just a moment earlier.

"I thought that thing was invincible," commented Mort, looking up at it.

"Not since Halo 2 came out," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "Oh, you're back?"

Mort just went inside the cabin and shut the door. He heard crashing sounds and some screams a few seconds later.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"We are gathered here today to bury Theodred," said some guy who was in charge of burying things. He had buried many things in his lifetime—treasure, sandwiches, that one brown thing someone found in the trash that couldn't be identified (it may have been a sandwich, but he preferred to think that it wasn't so his resume would be longer)—you name it, he had buried it.

Gandalf farted loudly. He farted so much, in fact, that he knocked over Theoden, who had been standing next to him.

"I say!" said Gandalf, "I farted!"

The two of them burst out laughing. Theoden hopped to his feet and gave a fart in response.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"That isn't funny," commented Mort, leaning over Spoofmaster's shoulder with his hands full of Doritos and Mountain Dew. "You're just catering to the lowest common denominator. Besides, it's just a ripoff of Terrence and Phillip."

"Fine!" frowned Spoofmaster, shoving her chair back to give him better access to the keyboard. "_You_ write a funeral scene that's funny!"

Mort set his Mountain Dew down next to MysticButtCrystal, who shied away from it, disgusted, and began to write.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

As Theodred's body was interred, everyone suddenly began to vomit. The burying-job-guy vomited all over his shirt, and Theoden vomited, and Gandalf vomited, and Don Quixote and his horse vomited into the grave. It was funny that Don Quixote was there because he was a Don like a mafia Don. Hahaha. So, everyone vomited all over each other, and this caused more vomiting. The root of the vomit cycle was a burn victim who was gumming pieces of an orange. He watched on as everyone around him vomited, but failed to vomit himself.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

The two authors stared at what Mort had written for a moment, then burst out laughing and pointed at him quite rudely.

"What!" snapped Mort.

"You just totally ripped off Mafia," laughed MysticButtCrystal.

"What's that?" asked Mort innocently.

"Oh, don't play dumb!" yelled MysticButtCrystal. "I've seen it, like, twenty times! I know a Mafia! ripoff when I see it!"

"Yeah," chipped in Spoofmaster. "And you didn't even do it well. You had to explain why a joke was funny, and you used the same verb ten times in one paragraph!"

"I thought you were supposed to be a professional writer, too," scoffed MysticButtCrystal.

"Not really," disagreed Mort. "What I'm really supposed to be is an avatar of Stephen King, which would just make me some scruffy guy who lives off in the woods and writes weird shit because I was molested as a child. That doesn't necessarily make me a real author."

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"…You should attack Isengard," commented Gandalf to Theoden after the funeral.

"I don't want to," replied Theoden. "My military is missing out in a field somewhere. We would get slaughtered, and there would be nothing left of us but a bunch of guys wandering around aimlessly and yelling the word 'horse' over and over very loudly."

"What if I got them back?" asked Gandalf.

"Even if you could find them, now that I'm no longer under the control of his agent, Saruman will no doubt launch a full scale attack on us before we can assemble anything even close to a good defense. No, we will go to Helm's Deep. If they come after us there, we can just drop rocks on their heads or something."

"That won't work," argued Gandalf. "All the orcs will just stand in front of your fortress and wait for you to starve to death."

"Well, then what the hell do you propose?" asked Theoden.

"I'll go get Eomer while you go to Helm's Deep," replied Gandalf.

"What'll you do if you can't find him?"

"I think you should be more worried about what you'll do if that happens," warned Gandalf. Then he hopped on Shadowfax (still a stupid name for a horse) who vomited and then ran off into the distance.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"Ihihihi'm pihihihihihihihihissed!" whinnied Brego, rearing up and trying to get away from the Rohirrim holding his halter. Actually, he didn't say that. Peanut butter is becoming the new skulls.

Speaking of skulls, there were no skulls present! How could there be a scene without skulls? What a depressing and terrible sight! No skullish light shone on this darkened stable! The place entirely lacked the merry clacking of skulltacular skulls. The lack of skulls was antiskulleri—

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Mort paused on his way to his room and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

ANYWAY, Brego was all upset and psychotic.

Aragorn walked into the stable, planted his feet wide apart, and bellowed, "Leggo my Brego!"

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Mort paused on his way back out of his room and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head once more.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

So anyway, Aragorn went in and grabbed Brego's halter. He pulled the horse's head down near his face, and whispered some Elvish words in its ear.

"I'm a horse whisperer!" declared Aragorn loudly and proudly, despite the fact that his mouth was still within inches of Brego's ear.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

MysticButtCrystal leaned forward and slapped Spoofmaster up the back of the head.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"What did you say to him?" asked Eowyn curiously when Brego quickly calmed down.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"Shouldn't she say it furiously?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "You know, because she's furious, like Riddick."

"…What!" asked Spoofmaster.

"Haven't you seen the thing she did with the big knife and the Nazgul in the third movie? She's a total ripoff of Riddick, a completely unoriginal character!"

Mort stormed out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and grabbed MysticButtCrystal by the throat. Spoofmaster grabbed him too, and together they threw him out of the "secret" (in other words, obvious and not at all clandestine and placed oddly close to the loft floor) window. He landed in the corn patch, crushing several plants.

"Oh no!" shouted Mort, grabbing his shovel and running out the door. Spoofmaster could hear a bunch of yelling and the sound of a shovel colliding with various objects. She looked out the clandestine aperture and saw MysticButtCrystal dodging rapid shovel attacks by Mort. She shrugged and turned back to the computer.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"Uhmm…I told him to calm down and that nothing bad was going to happen to him," lied Aragorn. He had really told the horse that if it didn't calm down, he would put it out to stud—to gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay stud in a slash with Mr. Ed and Black Beauty.

** Beta Reader's note: heh, a horse slash. …Isn't Black Beauty a girl? **

** Authors' note: No, no he is not. He just happens to have a gaaaaaaay name. **

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

Spoofmaster flinched in anticipation of a blow that didn't come, then went back to writing.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

"You speak Elvish?" asked Eowyn. "There aren't many men who can."

"Ah…yes," replied Aragorn. "I was raised in Rivendhell—I mean, Rivendell."

"Really?" wondered Eowyn. "That's really weird...but sexy."

Aragorn quirked an eyebrow at her, and left quickly.

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp

**We apologize for this chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

Attention readers:

Due to the ever-decreasing quality of this story and the narcissistic attitudes displayed by its writers, it is now under new management. We at cannot allow people with a sense of humor to infringe upon our primary user base, or to make fun of our evil robo—I mean, helpful software.

And now, we place this story under the control of a member of our primary user base, a fifteen-year-old girl known as HughezGurl69. She has informed us that she will be transforming it into a delightful story about the escapades of the character Howard Hughes from the film The Aviator.

OMGLOLZSCENEDIVIDER!—

OMG Hi! I'm HughezGurl69! LOL, I had this idea and I just HAD to write it!1 It's about my OC, her name is Starla. Can Starla teach Howard Hughez to love again and stop being batshit crazy! Red to find out!1!

OMGLOLZSCENEDIVIDER!—

Howard Hughes sat in his…uhhmmmmm….office in his howse. (A/N: I didn't know wear it was sew I put it in his house Lolz). He stared at the wall b/c he didn't have n e airplanes to make that day.

Starla Jet came in and empteed his garbage can, which was filled with lots of things that were perfectly good but that Howard thought maybe someone else had touched or that maybe they were just too asymmetrical or too symmetrical. He watched her and decided to himself to throw away the trash can when she was gone because she had touched it and he didn't know her, Yet.

Starla finished wut she wuz doing and looked at him and asked, "is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Howard. "Do you work for me!

"Everyone works for you" said the voice recording his friend had set up to answer him when he asked that.

"Actually no." said Starla. "I posed as your maid becuz I wanted to come and meet you and see if the rumors were true. I own WorldAround Plane Company, but now I think I like you so I don't want to do bad things……that would affect you negatively……….anymore."

She finished talking and lookd at him hopefully—mebbe he wouldn't be upset?

"A SPY! A SPY!" screamed Howard, before throwing her out the door and locking it. "I wuz right! There are spies! Hundreds of them, everywhere!"

He then did the only thing he could think of in this situation. He took off his shirt and flushed it down the toilet, then tied his shoes to the sides of his head with his socks. (A/N: LMAO, I told u he wuz crazy)

Starla put her ear 2 the door and she could hear him going "a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a pie a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy a spy"

"Howard?" asked Starla quiestly. "It's o.k. you can come out and stop being crazy."

"Really?" asked Howard, opening the door.

"Yesd." replyed Starlaa.

"OK then." sed Howard, and so he stopped being crazy.

Suddenly, Demon Brewster appeared in a big cloud of smoke and temerity.

"It is I, Brewster." said Demonn Brewster. "To get my revenge on you Howard Hughez I sold my sould to teh devil." (A/N: OMG!2!) "Now I will use mu devil powers 2 smudge things adn make u eat desgustingly rare fish!" (A/N: OMG OMG; ONG)

"Oh no!" said Howard. He started 2 take off his pants, thinking he would f;lush them down the toilet. But Starla stopped him.

"No!" said Starla. "U r not crazy n e more!"

"I am not afraid of u or ur fish nor am I intimdited by your lama picture anymore!" yelled Howard. "Now fel the whip of my cane!" he said, smacking Demon Brewster's shins with it.

"Ow stop that!" said Deomn (A/N: LOlz!) Brewster. "I don't relly want to hurt you. I really love you!"

(A/N: HE ONLY FOUGHT HIM TO HIDE HIS FEELINGS!one! Woops, caps lock teehee)

"Oh ok" said Howard. "Oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok ho ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok oh ok"

And so they went off to Brewsters demon mansion to xpress their feelling s for each other physically.

"I'm just glad he found love" said Starla sadly

OMGLOLZSCENEDIVIDER!—

A/N Well that's chapter 1, lolz. Next chapter will b about how Howerd faces the temtation of a towl wench when he and Demon Brewster go 2 Florida on the super Chunnel. But can tehy make it thru the Super Chunnel at all? There are so many cowws!

"NO!" screamed MysticButtCrystal, breaking down the door. "You cannot write this garbage!"

"Eeeeeeeek!" shouted HughezGurl69.

"First off," grumbled MysticButtCrystal, looming over her and her computer, "Howard Hughes was a real person. So was 'Demon' Brewster. You can't go around writing slash about real people! You shouldn't even do it about fictional people. It shows a lack of respect for the source material nine times out of ten."

"Dont b stupid," replied HughezGurl69. "It wuz just a movie. Can't u tell teh diffrence between movies and life?"

"Argh, she even misspells when she's talking out loud!" screeched Spoofmaster, covering her ears in semi-mock agony.

"Is that what it is?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "I thought she was just mentally deficient."

"Just get the story back off her computer and let's go," said Spoofmaster. "We'vealready wasted enough time trying to track her down. The update's really late."

"I told you we should just have Snake Plissken do it," argued MysticButtCrystal.

"And I told you that he ran off and is hard to work with anyway!" snapped Spoofmaster.

"Oh, come on!" retorted MysticButtCrystal. "He's stuck out of his universe—for crying out loud, he works at a gas station in Tashmore Lake! He'd probably jump at the opportunity to go on another mission just to start feeling a little less lost. By now he's got to have gotten totally introspective, and you know how bad that can be."

"He's an unreliable jerk!" countered Spoofmaster. "Besides, what's done is done, and now we're the ones standing in some girl's bedroom in the middle of Ohio. Just get the story, and we'll leave."

"Fine, fine," grumbled MysticButtCrystal, turning back to HughezGurl69. To the infinite surprise of both him and his sister, her seat was vacant and the laptop gone. A light breeze blew the drapes around the open window.

"How'd she do that!" asked Spoofmaster. "We're two stories up!"

"Wait…" murmured MysticButtCrystal. "I think I know where she went."

He darted his hand out through the window and upwards. HughezGurl69 let out a squeak of shock as his hand closed around her ankle and pulled her none-too-gently down off the eave above and back through the window.

"How did you know she was up there?" inquired Spoofmaster.

"Notice how we're on the second floor, the walls are slanted to form the roof, and this window is in an alcove so it's possible to get out on the roof from it?"

"Oh, like how you knew Riddick was on the roof of that spaceship," nodded Spoofmaster, understanding.

"Yeah, exactly," smiled MysticButtCrystal. "How else would he have cut the support cables of both those bounty hunters? No way could he have jumped that far."

"Whut do you want with mee!" cried HughezGurl69, struggling inefficiently.

"Nothing," shrugged Spoofmaster, taking the laptop away from her. "We just wanted the story back."

"Can't afford to have you calling the cops or either," admitted MysticButtCrystal. "So I guess you're coming with us. I hope you like filthy old couches of humiliation and sadness."

With that, they dragged HughezGurl69 out the door and to the waiting Warthog. They tied her up in the passenger seat, and Spoofmaster climbed into the back with the LAAG gun.

"Don't shoot anything," growled MysticButtCrystal forebodingly as he clambered into the driver's seat and started the vehicle.

Other comments that came from MysticButtCrystal on the way home included:

"What did that squirrel ever do to you! That could have been Foamy, you ass! And then we'd have no more Foamy rants about how much he hates things!"

"If you shoot one more minivan, I might just actually approve of your behavior."

"Okay, now I approve."

"Stop killing so many pedestrians! You're getting us a wanted level! You see those two stars! You see them! Two stars don't just go away! One star, yes! Two stars, no!"

"Slow down! You don't want those Planet-Jerks getting wind of this, do you?"

and

"I swear, I'm going to tip this thing so that you get crushed between that gun and the ground. You see that embankment on the left? I know how not to use the E-brake, and I'll misuse it so bad we'll roll, I swear it!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

And THAT is why this update took so long.


	10. You're not going to like this

To start off today, we would like to offer an apology, both for the extreme lengths between updates and for what we are about to tell you. This parody will no longer be updated by either of us. Neither of us really holds any interest for writing it anymore, and even if we did, things have just changed too much. In three weeks, Spoofmaster will be moving to college, and there just won't be enough time with the both of us together. We are deeply sorry that this is how it is going to end. The last thing we ever wanted to do was to leave an incomplete fic, but the real mistake was posting chapters before we had it finished. Spoofmaster is considering someday continuing by herself, but do not count on that, as this story will probably be set aside in favor of projects with more enthusiasm behind them. No longer having the pressure to write this will hopefully free her up for other things.

In parting, we leave you with the unfinished chapter ten.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Saruman was sitting in his recliner by the fire, enjoying a cup of cocoa. He had long since discarded the toffees, which now lay scattered about on the table next to him. His peace was suddenly disrupted when the fire turned green and a disreputable looking wizard wearing bike shorts and a parka stepped out of it, getting ash all over the rug. Saruman choked and spilled his cocoa all down his front.

"Oh, dear," sighed the wizard, looking around. "This isn't where I meant to go at all."

"Get out of my giant tower of doom, you stupid bastard!" screamed Saruman, throwing toffees at him. The other wizard held his hands over his head in defense and seemed to prepare to throw something into the fire from whence he came.

"What are you trying to put in my fireplace?" demanded Saruman angrily. "It had better not be fireworks!"

The poorly dressed wizard succeeded in tossing a handful of powder into the fireplace. The fire turned green once more and began to emit sparks.

"It was fireworks!" screeched Saruman. "I'm going to kill you, you psycho!"

"Diag—" started the other wizard. Just then, though, the small table that had been beside Saruman's chair collided with his head, and both he and the table disappeared into the flames. Most of the toffees, however, remained in the room, scattered in the ashes on the floor.

It was just then that Wormtai—Worm_tongue_ (same difference) walked in on his master. Actually, he was wheeled in by a bored-looking orc with a wheelbarrow. Grima was covered in bandages, and smelled, among other things, of horses and honey.

"What happened to you?" asked Saruman, getting up and waving his staff over his servant to heal the worst of his wounds. "And why do you smell so bad?"

"They caught on to me," whined Wormtongue. He took a quick glance around at the mess of toffee, ashes, and overturned furniture, then asked, "what happened here?"

"You know the fireplace?" asked Saruman.

"…yes…"

"It's doing that thing again."

"I found out something I think is important," reported Grima. "There's a Numenorean in Rohan. He had that ring with the ugly little snakes on it and everything."

"You mean that Aragorn person?" snorted Saruman. "From what I've heard, he's just an inbred hick. I've heard a lot of stories about him, but most of them seem to be about him wandering around making an ass out of himself and acting all nympho. He's nothing to worry about—that line died out generations ago. Besides, this war isn't my problem anymore."

"What do you mean?" wondered Grima. "Aren't you still going to try to get the Bra?"

"Think about it, Grima," sighed Saruman. "Is conquering the world really such a good idea? Besides, those stupid authors left me out of the first installment. I refuse to play my designated part in their stupid little games."

"But Sauron will be real mad," protested Grima.

"Sauron is a giant eyeball made of fire," replied Saruman. "Oh no, he's going to blink at me! Except, no, I forgot, he can't even blink. Ooo, so scary, a big, dry, itchy eyeball."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Goodbye, and don't hate us too much.


End file.
